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[personal profile] desperance
I was just in the kitchen, shredding ham-hock into the split-pea soup London Particular, and - no cats. Not a cat.

As it happens, I know where they are: Mac has taken to his bed in the bathroom, Baz is snuggled down on a pile of old clothes that used to be clean before they were a cat bed. Also, I know why: as mentioned heretofore, at this time of year upstairs is significantly warmer. Even so, they usually come down for hamz. Maybe their little noses are as seasonally affected as my own? Or they're just not talking to me, to the point of penultimate sacrifice (only sossidge, obviously, outranks hamz). Certainly they're not sleeping with me. I had a horrible night all round, and none of it was relieved by cat.

Anyway. Whichever one happens to go down first will get a treat. No doubt in another universe another Chaz has kept back the greasy gristly bits for equal division later, but I just divided it all equally between two bowls and left it for one lucky cat. It's the way of this world: it really is a zero-sum game.

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