Since I am a cat person, I am a sucker for pictures of cats wearing hats, cartoons in which they speak in English accents, and I obviously treat my cats like spoiled children. Since I coddle them so, I recently bought them a shitload of cod (which as a vegetarian, I effing don't want to touch, buy, smell, or prepare) and made some fish tacos for Tuffy, Buddy and Junior. I got the recipe from a book called Cooking For Cats, which I realized post-meal, is what I should have done. Cooked for them. Not with them. They were so excited by the smell they were climbing all over my arms, shoving their noses into the bowl, crying bloody, squeaky, meow-murder, and attacking eachother in order to get closer to the goods. I was so stressed out that I almost didn't have time to make them wear sombreros and tiny plastic "fiesta!" bibs. Almost. They hated the hats, but loved the tacos. I think in the end, we all won.
The interesting thing is, they all had different approaches to the tacos (after their initial crazed reaction to the smell of fish).:
Tuffy, who is a huge snob, pretended to be unexcited and sulked alone in the kitchen for approximately 3 minutes, until she realized her good friends Buddy and Junior had no qualms in eating her share of the feast. Then she ran in and tried to make up for lost time.
Junior neatly pecked his mouth inside the rolled taco, delicately eating the fish and trying desperately not to get his tiny lips on the taco shell. Not an adventurous eater.
Buddy, who is diabetic and shouldn't really be eating carbs anyway, immediately slapped his paw down on one side of the wrap, and with his other paw unrolled the taco flesh so he could smash his face into the cod, inhaling it much like the very vacuum cleaner that terrifies him, sending him to hide in his lair in the basement for hours.
It will be a long time before I cook for these kids again. They seemed rather unappreciative and get just as excited when I crack open a can of tuna. Anything for my babies.
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