Pets have us wrapped around their little finger... er... paw
By Helen Mead I made a big mistake over the Christmas break. I gave my cat the left-over turkey. Not just once or twice as a treat. With my mum donating left-overs too, it was turkey, turkey, turkey for three weeks.
And now the damage is done. There is no going back. My cat, being a fully paid-up member of the fastidious feline world, now refuses to eat anything else.
He turns his nose up at the cartons of Felix which he was more than happy with before, he snubs Whiskas and even yowls in disapproval at the smell of fancy `Gourmet' meals wrapped in shiny golden packets. I only tried that in desperation, having had all the cheaper brands rejected.
It's becoming ridiculous - on visits to the supermarket I am now spending more time mulling over what to get the cat for dinner than the children. Every day I vow to stop and let the creature either eat what he is given or starve, but when he stands by his bowl and looks up, giving a pitiful cry, I can't do it.
After all, I keep reminding myself, he lived rough for two years before we acquired him, so he deserves a bit of pampering. And I don't want a repeat of the experience we had in our last house, when our cat decided that a neighbour's offerings of fresh fish were preferable to tinned cat food, and virtually moved in with her.
Pets, be it cats or dogs, can twist us around their little fingers, or should I say paws. My husband only has to roll on to my side of the bed, shoving me to one side, and I'm up in arms. But the cat, who weighs as much as a Shetland pony, can place his bulk between my knees, rendering it impossible to turn over, and I will lie there in full acceptance of the situation, barely breathing so as not to wake him. My husband and I often lose sleep because of his boulder-like presence on the duvet.
My neighbour tells similar tales about his two dogs, lying either side of him, and a friend's cat likes to sleep behind her head on the pillow, and lashes out if she moves suddenly.
It's outrageous. We don't allow those closest to us to behave like this, yet our furry friends get away with it. I'm always telling my children to eat what they're given or go hungry, yet if the cat won't eat his tea I put on my coat and go to buy him something else.
My husband recently pointed out that our cat has somehow commandeered the best seat in the living room, next to the radiator and nearest to the TV. He has also got his claws into the biggest, most squashy cushion.
I have not only allowed, but positively encouraged all this, even plumping up the cushion before he settles down. Yet he rewards me by flexing his sharp claws on my legs, attacking me from behind as I walk downstairs, sleeping virtually all day and protesting at the food on offer.
I'm getting vibes that our love affair is quite seriously one-sided. Experts say that finicky felines can be weaned off a food if you don't give in, and after three days they will eat what you give them.
Lets hope so. I've just stuck a couple of pizza crusts and a left-over mince pie in our cat's bowl.
I've also moved his cushion to a less coveted spot, and I've banned him from the bedroom. These measures are sure to last - until he comes purring and butting around my legs. Then I'll be back at the butchers choosing prime cuts.
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