Fried Chicken Stalls and Compassionate Cat Ownership

I totally screwed up today.

I was going home to change for my doctor’s appointment (neurologist, general checkup and medication, nothing scary), and I picked up fried chicken for early lunch. Now, SOMETIMES, when I get fried chicken, I’ll get legs for the cats.

Cat serving. CAT.
Cat serving. CAT.

But I do this when I buy my own lunch and eat it at the office. …I didn’t buy the cats legs today, and tried to bring my chicken home to eat… try to guess how well that worked.

It didn’t. So I had like a bite, one bite, with Ani all up in my face and hands. Fighting more than I have ever fought to keep her nose out of my food. To keep her from eating what is mine!

Why do you hate me? Why do you hog all tasty things?
Why do you hate me? Why do you hog all tasty things?

Of course, I caved.. Tore the thing in half and gave it to the cats. I ate the sticky rice and fried onions. But they got the chicken.

CHICKEN?! WHERE?!
CHICKEN?! WHERE?!

For the record, it was the new chicken-stall on the way home, not my usual lady way outside the back gate. The outisde of the chicken isn’t as good, the inside is… possibly better. I feel a little like a traitor for saying so. I think it might be good chicken for buying and using in my lentil soup, or REALLY good chicken for tortilla soup!!!

Chicken.
Chicken.
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