The Night of the Three Dinners
Today Winston is going to tell you about The Night of the Three Dinners in his own words. All I can do is give him my total admiration and say that I clearly still have a lot to learn. So here, all the way from Canada is our dear friend Winston.
Life in Toronto
All is going well here in Toronto – I am enjoying the snow days. Yesterday we woke up to a white wonder world, so I had a great time with Mum at the park playing in the snow.
The Three Dinners
Now I don’t know about you, but I find myself a little peckish after an energetic run in the snow. I feel that it is only fair that I help myself to our cat’s food bowl. It is always out there on offer for Garfield (our moggy)- unlike my meals which last exactly the few minutes I spend eating them all up. My mum seems blissfully unaware that while she is helping herself to coffee and biscuits after the walk, I slink off upstairs and into the cat’s room, nudge open the door- and tidy up the unfinished cat food.
This was all going so well. Everybody was happy, until mum caught me recently, in the act. I still feel the cat bowl will come into its own as a snack spot when all the fuss has died down. I have been supplementing my diet for years with Garfield’s food, I just need to lie low on that front for a while.
The Second Dinner
I was gloomily pondering this one evening When Mum unexpectedly gave me an early dinner. It was ten to six and she said that she wanted to finish some work, and so she fed me ten minutes early and left the room. Then as I settled down on my bed in the kitchen pleasantly replete, my elder human brother came into the kitchen and started to fill my bowl with my dinner. It was six o clock now, and as the kitchen was empty apart from myself, he thought he should feed me, unaware that I had already eaten.
No complaint from me
I didn’t object and I happily made short work of this unexpected bonus. I settled down on my bed once again and was happily snoozing. Then my dad entered the kitchen, and I had an idea. I heaved myself up and stood near my bowl drooling and looking expectant. He fell for it and he gave me my third dinner in an hour! I ate it all up and flopped down on my bed once again.
The Humans’ Meal
Now the humans eat on a glass table in the kitchen. I always sit under the table while they eat and I have fun catching any crumbs that fall. Sometimes I like to play peek-a -boo at them as they eat. I give them longing looks from under the place mats from my spot under the glass, I like to follow the trajectory of their forks. That particular evening though, I hadn’t the energy after my three dinners, I lay still under the table as Mum and Dad ate. Mum remarked on my comatose pose. Dad said, “Winston was fine earlier. In fact he was drooling on the floor before I fed him. Mum stared at him and said, “I fed him.” Just then my brother entered the kitchen- and said “I fed him!” At this point Mum nearly choked on her glass of wine. I had been found out. They were a bit concerned about me, and they didn’t give me breakfast the next morning, but I was fine.
They have been more careful since that incident, but I live in hope of another evening like that.
Love Winston
Go Winston, that’s what I say. You are an example to us all. I envy you the snow too.
Love
Wilma