Mostly Ms. Kitty is extremely well behaved, but there are a few people she has knowingly marked as soft touches and she often gets them to give her unauthorized tid-bits of yummy-ness. Mr. C. is the softest of soft touches. Ms. Kitty bats her long eyelashes at him and suddenly she is in roast beast sandwich heaven.
To Ms. Kitty’s great dismay her person has asked that Ms. Kitty no longer be given people food. The customers have mostly gotten the message. Ms. Kitty is having a harder time adapting to it.
Yesterday, like most every weekday, Mr. C came in for his lunch. He got his favorite beverage, his roast beast sandwich, and a bag of chips. He also got Ms. Kitty. She followed his every move. When he took his seat at the table, she positioned herself just below his left elbow and waited. And waited.
She let out a little yip. Mr. C shifted in his seat so he couldn’t see her. She trotted under his chair to his right side. Mr. C scooted closer to the table and put his elbows on the table top. Ms. Kitty yipped at him.
Ms. Kitty’s person came out of the rest room and scolded her. Ms. Kitty backed up about three feet and faced her people, but longingly stared at Mr. C’s sandwich from the corner of her eyes.
Ms. Kitty’s person went into the kitchen and Ms. Kitty was right back at Mr. C’s side. He told her, “Go away. You are going to get me in trouble!” She sat up on her haunches, tipped her head sideways and held out one paw to him. She looked so beseechingly hungry!
Mr. C put his hands over his face. Ms. Kitty let out a long suffering whine. Mr. C was about to break. Ms. Kitty knew it. Every one in the room knew it …. and Ms. Kitty’s person returned to the dining area and handed Ms. Kitty a dog biscuit.
Ms. Kitty happily snatched the biscuit and turned away. Usually when given food she runs under a table where no one can reach her, but this time she took a couple faltering steps and stopped.
Ms. Kitty put the dog biscuit down on the floor and looked at it. She looked back at her person, then she looked at Mr. C. She examined the dog biscuit again. Finally Ms. Kitty picked up the dog biscuit carried it to Mr. C’s table. She raised up on her hind legs and carefully placed the dog biscuit on Mr. C’s knee, then she resumed her begging stance and let out a happy little bark.
Mr. C exclaimed, “She wants to trade!” We were all chuckling. Looking up at Ms. Kitty’s person Mr. C said, “It’s a fair trade.” He put the doggy biscuit in his coat pocket and gave Ms. Kitty a bite of roast beast.