There is no division in the cat food section of the grocery store
Despite the divided nature of our nation, there is great unity in the cat food section of the grocery store.
There are dozens of brands and labels available, and the lettering on the tiny little cans is hard to read, and, invariably, Mittens will only eat the one kind, so we help each other.
"Do you see any giblet stew?" a woman asks me as I search for the brand I want. "It's all my cat will eat."
"I don't see it, ma'am, no," I answer. "Do you see any of the tender liver and chicken feast?"
"My cat used to eat the tender liver one," a fellow says. His T-shirt says, "Harley Davidson," but he's looking for the shrimp and mackerel feast because his cat now refuses to eat the tender liver flavor and will accept only the shrimp and mackerel variety. When the guy bends over to take the cans he wants off the bottom shelf, the chain on his trucker wallet jingles merrily, like Christmas bells.
There is no division in the cat food section of the grocery store. We are all bent to a common task.
My cat Jack is the one who will only eat the tender liver and chicken. My wife Deborah tried two grocery stores. I tried a grocery store and one of those big corporate pet supply stores.
No dice. No liver, either.
This Wednesday, I hit a grocery store not far from my job. Nine cans. There were two cans remaining at home, which is 11 cans total; Jack eats one can a day, so we'd be safe for a while.
I texted my wife from the car.