Parting shot...

Sorry all, I nearly forgot.  I've been posting my entries to Facebook to keep my friends updated, and a former pain in the butt acquaintance of mine crudely suggested that my blog include photos of food, post-digestion and passage.  Charming gentleman, I assure you... glad to see he's matured since fifth grade.  Ahem.

Regardless, his little comment did prompt me to share a (completely harmless) photo and story.  As it happened, one of my little critters, Chief, got wind of the fact that I was preparing seafood (crafty little killer queen that she is).  After I was done with my plate of red curry pasta, she snuck onto the kitchen counter to give the residual shrimpy juices on my plate a little taste.  She didn't plan on the curry.  I find her, moments later, like so:

She's drinking from the toilet.  Yes, the toilet's clean.  Yes, she's aware she's not a dog (although the other critter Figaro constantly suffers from this sort of species identity confusion).  Yes, I keep a generous bowl of fresh, clean water for her to drink.  No, I have no idea why this seemed like a good plan to her.

I promise to keep this blog mostly about food and my experiences with it over my solitary weekends; just had to share one of Chiefy's experiences, too.  Moral of the story: cats can't take fiery Thai flavour.  At least, mine can't.  Khor toat, mao.  Stay off the counter next time.

Denying any allegations of gastronomical animal abuse,
-Honeybee