around the Fiesta bowl. You'd think, after all these months, this bunch would be able to trust me to serve them up enough from every dish.
At the end of September, I still had fourteen cats and kittens pigging out in the relative shelter of my porch. A few of them have, in the past weeks, found better homes, and one of them succumbed to the hazards of automobile traffic only recently, but, even those who have been given safe and snuggly houses elsewhere come back every few days to snitch from their siblings and cousins.
Maybe they just like the big ceramic thing in which the food is served. It can't be the charm of the crazy, grumpy lady who dumps kibble out there for them, that brings them back.