Oh, For The Love Of Pork!

It's always the crackling, isn't it?

Only yesterday Bob realized that his princess ( it used to be me, but now our Mausi has moved effortlessly into this position ) had a few nefarious moments in her otherwise stellar feline complexion. It all started with the love of pork, and the princess's copy catting trait.

For a special occasion ( our folks are visiting ) we bought three packets of Pork skins, with a wifely reminder attached to them even before we left the supermarket:

" Bob, these are not for you alone. Polly loves these, so they are only for her! "

which made Bob do his non-committal shrug, correctly interpreted by his mother or I to mean..
-I hear you, but that doesn't mean I am going to do as you want- and the trio of porkies turned into a lesser duo on the first day home. Oh yes, Bob loves these cracklings.

Once, a long time ago in snack terms ( about 7 weeks or so ) Bob worked his way audibly through one of these packets and had an audience too. Yes, Mausi sat there moving her darling little head from side to side, in tune with Bob's expert way of eating this crackling: Left molars, right molars in a loop.

By mistake or rather in his frenzy to eat it before I had a chance to hide the packet, he dropped one on the floor and it lay there forgotten by him and I, yet fondly ogled by our cat. She didn't even bat an eyelid in an effort to throw us off our game, but ate it with glee, noise and sheer joy. Honestly, Bob's feeble aside of it being too spicy for her had more to do with him not wanting to share any future portions with her.

Last night, the second packet was brought out and almost devoured by all of us. A handful of chippy cracklings lay languishing at the bottom of a bowl. Perhaps no one wanted to be the one eating the last few and thus they stayed in the bowl, on the table, almost forgotten by all.

I was just falling asleep, when I heard the Bobster getting out of bed in a huge hurry. Goodness, what now? He sprinted into the kitchen and I heard a few mumbled strictures falling on chastened feline ears.

Bob was aghast at the audacity of his little princess...she, who had awaited our collective retreat into the slumber chambers before creeping into the kitchen, onto the table and sitting in front of the chip bowl, was ecstatically eating them one at a time.

The loud crackling noise had awoken Bob and when he got back into bed, voicing his dismay at one of the little paws having slipped off it's lofty pedestal, I just mumbled a one liner while trying not to laugh:

" Oh, at least she's got good taste. "

Biggi