I woke up this morning before my husband, without the usual weekend assistance of Jacoby biting my head. When I got up, all the kitties escorted me to the kitchen to show me their empty bowls. Since I was the first one awake, I obligingly gave them their daily ration of crunchies, which they tucked into.
When my husband got up a short while later, he checked their bowls and commented, “Wow, there’s still a lot of food left.”
“Oh, yeah, I gave them their dry food already,” I explained, believing he thought it had been there since yesterday.
“You what!?” He said. “But I fed them already this morning!”
“You did? When? Their bowls were empty when I got up…” I was starting to smell a bay rum-scented rat.
“6am! They woke me up so I fed them and went back to bed.”
Those sneaky little brats! “THEY PLAYED ME!” I cried. “Those little sneaks PLAYED me! I should have known something was fishy when Jake wasn’t biting awake…”
Such is life with devious felines of the Aby persuasion.