I was recently reminded how fickle cats can be. I've had my cat, Ava, for going on seven years now and she's always been a loving, friendly cat. With summer and open windows she'll come and go as she pleases, but always returns to eat her very healthy premium, high fiber, vitamin-supplemented, anti-urinary infection, organic (and expensive) dry cat food. However, I kept noticing that she was sitting on the rail of the porch across the street. She likes to do the porch rail sitting thing, looking out over the yard, catching the sun, checking out everything that goes by -- she used to like to do it off my porch though. I knew something was up.

Then a couple of weeks ago, my neighbor across the street sort of innocently asks "oh, is that grey and white cat yours?" She knew it was, but I still informed her that it was, and she had been mine for the past seven years. She went on to say what a sweet, friendly cat she was, but commented that she was fairly small. I had to tell her that she'd always been a tiny cat, from day one, when I'd saved her from the shelter, but yes she was indeed a very friendly loveable cat.

I knew something was up though, so had to press it. "Please don't feed her though, she has a special food she has to eat from the vet." Now this is a total lie, even though she sees the vet regularly and I make a big effort to feed her healthy, it's not like she has some rare kidney disease or cat diabetes or anything. I went on to say "I think someone has been feeding her lately, she doesn't seem interested in her special food much anymore." At this my neighbor continued to gather her groceries and with a guilty look on her face walked up the drive to her door. My cat bounding out from under a bush to greet her. If I wanted to push for the Perry Mason moment I could have knocked the bag from her hands onto the side walk and I'm sure dozens of cans of those tiny little gourmet cat food cans would have rolled out incriminatingly across the sidewalk, probably even a couple of slabs of fresh salmon.

So I realized I had to up my game. Not to be outdone, I had to visit the pet store and find a nice selection of those little gourmet cans of cat food to fight back with. I probably spent a good twenty minutes hand picking a careful menu for the week, a nice variety with tasty  sounding (I'm assuming to cats) names like special salmon supper, perch platter, tempting turkey, and some less specific cans of mystery meet that still had names that would serve a four-star restaurant proud like Fresh Feast Fricassee and Deluxe Dinner Delight. I went home and flipped off the first can top (whatever happened to electric can openers as pet calls?) I walked to the front door and tapped the can with a fork like a dinner bell. Sure enough here comes Ava and I present her with her new food, standing there like a proud maître d, towel over arm, waiting for a response, perhaps compliments for the chef.

Ava just dove in, hungrily working through the mass of processed animal parts and oily gravy. I would notice later that no matter what the can promised on the outside the inside was always pretty much the same processed can-shaped disc of cat food, with perhaps only slight variations in color. Ava didn't care though. She was pigging out like faster than a kids pee-wee league team after a big game at Cici's.

Over the next few days, Ava took to sitting on my porch again, always there when I stepped to the front door banging on a can of food. The old bag of "healthy" food is now been pushed to the back of the top of the fridge, probably never to be eaten again, and eventually to find it's way to the trash.

But at least I have my cat back, have that satisfaction of looking out the window to see her sitting on my porch rail. And if when I tap that can of food, she may not exactly be rubbing my leg, and purring loudly, showering me with feline affection - but, I do at least get that look up from her, and that meow that I think translates roughly into - "Bout f'ing time, I was out here starving, you think I got nothing better to do all day but wait for you to open a stinking can? It not better be that nasty salmon crap again."  Ahhh cat love.