It is a radiant but early Sunday Morning. Outside, in the wide wild world, a late Fall -finally unleashed- is wreaking its majestic havoc on the hapless trees and inside, in the House of Chaos, the simian denizens try to fight off the lingering embrace of Morpheus in a desperate effort to get some decent breakfast before cruel starvation sets in. Needless to say the feline denizens await the same gruesome fate and follow the actions of the Mistress with unwavering scrutiny. Their well-being depends on it.
Our furry friends are very sensitive to changes in the simians’ daily routine and the elder ones have already learned to anticipate the joys of the breaking of said routine: they know their simians are wont to help themselves to a more copious breakfast at such days. Thus they eagerly await the Coming Of Good Times when the Mistress lurches over to the fridge and takes out the bacon. And equally thus the youngest feline, Hrimnir, ever eager to follow the good example of his elders, sets about in a frantic display of emotional distress fearing to be left out of the feast before it even had the chance to begin.
It’s not as if the feline denizens of the House of Chaos aren’t fed on a regular basis. In fact, their bowls are almost always at least partially filled with the yummy crunchies they so love. In the past the Mistress has gone through a painstaking process of offering her furry friends different brands of food and the elder cats have unanimously decided on a certain brand (named after cats’ whiskers). They also have stated their preference for stinky goodness, but since yummy crunchies are better for their porcelain cutlery they only rarely are treated to this delicacy. Besides, crunchies are less expensive and keep longer fresh in the bowl.
Now you should understand that as former predators cats are wont to place the accumulation of food at the top of their priorities. When they were still living the wild life daily existence meant there was great insecurity as to where food would come from and whether it would be willing to be eaten anyway. Hence the offending sight of an empty bowl is anathema to our poor feline companions and we must strive to keep the bowls topped up in order to protect their faint sensibilities. And when the unthinkable does happen we horrible negligent minions will bear the full brunt and force of feline wrath, which will be terrible and loud.
Hrimnir still has to master the finer points of this procedure though. The tyke obviously thinks that the louder would be the better and the yowls, howls and shrieks that accompany every move of the Mistress in the Kitchen of Chaos are a wonder to hear. He’s becoming more and more vocal with each day too, certainly honing the use of his voicebox to perfection, and the demanding force of his yelling grows equally daily. Not that the Mistress is impressed though. But I must admit that Hrimnir’s high sweet thrill is preferable to the growls and groans of the elder cats or Bean Sidhe’s holler. It is when their voices blend to form a feline cacophony of titanic proportions that we fear for the windows to fall from their cases.
Just try to imagine: at first you hear the high thrilling “me-a-ow miew mwew-a-ow” coming from the kitten. Then Bean Sidhe sets in with his trademark “meew mee-aaw aa-aa-aaaw”. Enter Loup-Garou’s falsetto “mew mew mew” (instead of his usual pathetically piping “iew”) and finally Zorro adds his throaty “mow moooow mA-ow”. Now, imagine further that the tyke will get louder and louder and the voices of the elder cats more and more insisting, demanding and ordering. There’s no set rhythm to it, crescendo and diminuendo clash, piano and fortissimo are having a fist-fight, and polyphony has taken the day off.
And all of that just for the Mistress taking the bacon out of the fridge.
Next I proceed to process the bacon. Grumpy Man likes his bacon without the crunchy white bits and these must be cut out before throwing the rest into the frying pan. This is exactly what Hrimnir has been waiting for. He is absolutely mad about these crunchy white bits and usually the elder cats get no chance at all to have a bite at it because the tyke so frantically attacks the bits when I throw them into the general direction of where I suspect the cats to be there’s simply no room left for the others to get their teeth in. He does leave the bowl in which I scrambled the eggs for the others though, you can’t accuse him of being a hog.
With the distribution of morsels and titbits finally commenced the noise gradually ceases and the Mistress can henceforth peacefully be about her domestic duties. And enjoy an uninterrupted breakfast herself later on. Because that is one of the Cardinal Rules in the House of Chaos: feed the felines first, then eat at peace.
Picture below: Houston we have a problem !! 4 felines… 3 bowls… THE HORROR !!!!
Another horror… a picture taken with an inferior camera. Once you’re used at nearly the best (Canon EOS 350D – 8 megapixels) having to use a lesser one (Fuji FinePix 1300 – 1,3 megapixels) sort of… hurts.