I walk into kitchen.
Tela hesitates, then scampers in after me.
I open to fridge and get out meat, vegetables.
Tela rubs her face against the refrigerator door, then tries to jump inside.
I pull her out of the fridge, and turn the skillet on and open up the package of hamburger meat.
Tela meows, just a little. Hey, what’s going on in here?
Meat starts cooking. I start cutting veggies.
Meow again. Hey, here I am. Tela rubs her body against the cabinets next to me.
Kitchen starts to smell fragrant, lots of cooking noises are happening.
Meow, meow. Rubs against my legs. Are you making canned food?
Me: no, sorry, cat.
Meow, meow. Are you sure?
Me: yep, sorry. Continues cooking process.
Rubs against my leg, looks up directly at me, waits for me to look her in the eye, big meow.
I don’t have any canned food, sorry baby. Opens the pantry (where we keep the canned food).
Sad meow. More meows. Purring. Can’t you maybe… just get… a little bit of canned food in there?
I told you, we don’t have any canned food. Continues cooking.
More rubbing against the cabinets.
Chops more vegetables.
Sad meows. Can’t you just make me some canned food, you’re so tall and powerful, with those opposable thumbs.
Pets cat. I can’t make any cat food, baby.
Thinks cat is satisfied. Releases cat and checks on meat. Meat smells delicious.
Looks up at me with giant, sad eyes.
Puts veggies in crock pot.
Rubs against the cabinets, purring.
Keeps putting veggies in crock pot.
Meow? Meow? Did you hear me? Do you have canned food?
No, cat, go do something else.
Drains grease off meat. Simmering juices are tantalizing cat.
Maybe with your amazing tallness and opposable thumbs, you could just… make me… a little bit of canned food?
Sorry, I can’t do that.
Meow. Walks away in dismay.
Finishes cooking. Asks husband if we can buy the cat more canned food. She clearly loves it.