The Things You Do for Love.

No, this is not some sappy post about me and the Main Squeeze, although that is going remarkably well. This is a post about the two dwellers that I feed and brush and pick up pooh for. Yes, the kats.

A while ago, I had the two of them on a raw food diet, or B.a.r.f. (bones and raw food) and they were perky, healthy kats indeed. I would have loved to have keep them on it, but lost the use of the meat grinder when I moved to this town. Recently though, I procured one of my very own.

The general just of the diet is that I have to stick dead things into a hand-crank grinder to break the bones into small enough pieces for my beast to eat.

To say that I am squeamish when it comes to dead things would be an understatement. Unless it is the un-dead, I want no part of it. So, this little uhm, roadblock, makes the preparation of the food difficult.

Someone had donated a wack load of organic, free-range chicken a while ago. And seeing as I have a hard time eating meat, let alone knowing the first thing about cooking it, it went to the kats. Of course, I had to get it through the grinder first. The set up is something that I am quite proud of. At no part during the ordeal would my hands have to touch the meat. It was perfect. The whole thing was moving along quite well until one of the wings got jammed in the wheel. Using the tongs, I pushed and prodded until it begrudgingly started going through. I started a smiling victoriously a tad early and failed to notice the build up under the skin. All too late, like a slow motion horror film, I saw the blood gush through the skin and up into my smiling face.

I looked up at one of my precious kats, hoping for some sympathy, but all I got was a long whine from her. Apparently I was not grinding fast enough to fill her bulging guts.



truly,
underappreciated.