A few days ago I saw a commercial that told me what my cat craves. Turns out my cat–who was born on West Main and has never been out of Williamson County–craves Tuscan Fire Grilled Chicken. I never knew. I mean, am I a bad parent or what?
I’ve been to Tuscany, but it never occured to me to take my cat. She doesn’t even have a passport. She’s never even had Kentucky Fried Chicken…much less Tuscan Fire Grilled Chicken.
The rule at our house is this…our cat–Kitty–eats Purina Cat Chow. That’s it. No treats. No tidbits from the table. If she wants something else, she has to catch it herself…and she is very capable of doing just that. Do you know the only thing worse that finding a giant lizard in your bedroom? It’s finding half a giant lizard in your bedroom. That’s what happens when you have a cat. A few days later, husband found the other half–in her bowl…he said it was a little puffy.
So, I love my cat. But I really think that an animal that would eat half a puffy lizard really does not crave Tuscan Fire Grilled Chicken.
But I think I sounds pretty good. (The chicken, that is.)