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I am not one of those crazy cat ladies (I am NOT), but I fear my husband is becoming one. You've heard the expression "dogs have owners but cats have staff?" My husband calls himself our cat Scooter's bit--, um servant. He buys the litter, changes the box, buys the cat food (only a certain kind will do for His Nibs). Hubs (Albert) informs me there's a certain ritual (bonding, not mating) for feeding. Scooter must have a "full body, nose to tail tip" massage (yes, Alb describes it like that). That's the dry cat food part. For the moist, I must feed it (minced on a small glass plate, please). Then dad must give the cat milk (I know, not good for kitties, yada yada--try telling that to Catmeister and his love slave). So we compromise. Dad gives him a small splash of lowfat.
Catmeister Scooter--Lord of all he surveys (and stuff he doesn't)