…not really, but the way food disappears in the night you might think so. My nickname for Mama has always been the “topa”, translated to English this means the “mouse or rat”, depending I guess on one’s perspective.
She is a night eater and if you go to bed thinking “oh, I will have that for breakfast” forgetaboutit. You either need to hide it or come to terms with the fact that it will not be there come morning time. But a funny thing happened the other day. It seems that there is more than just one mouse in this house!
The other day Mama was making a disaster zone out of the kitchen as usual and decided to put raw chicken on the open oven door (I’ve no idea why). Anyways, when she returned a while later she saw that one chicken filet was gone. Strange, who would take one raw chicken filet? Only then she realized that it must have been Stelle, my cat.
For the record, I have been giving Mama proper shit whenever she gives the cat raw meat because the Vet said not to. I have coddled this little savage because she has cancer and I don’t want to make matters worse for her. But, so it seems, this little trouble making fur ball has caught on to Mama’s habits and while Mama was engrossed in some Italian soap opera on TV, she snuck into the kitchen and stole a filet!
Poor Mama, she chased the cat around the apartment to no avail and was unable to find the missing filet anywhere. After realizing that the cat probably ate it she then went into a fit worrying that the cat would die before I got home and she had no idea how she would explain what had happened.
While she regaled her tale to me I just kept laughing at the vision of her chasing Stelle around with a piece of raw chicken in her mouth. Visions of Tom and Jerry Cartoons danced in my head along with happy, entertaining music.
So, suffice to say, the cat is alive and well and Mama has learned not to put raw meat at paw level. And I have learned that I am an overbearing mother to my wild little kitty and that I need to chill out a bit on Mama about the raw meat.