Tonight my mother fed Copernicus a dish of fresh cat food, but because Copernicus wasn't in the room while she poured it, she simply didn't believe that she wasn't being foiled by food that is less than fresh. I know people like Copernicus, and they generally come in the form of straw hat wearing, strawberry-picking old men. They generally stomp into the Berry cave, yowl as loud as they can that the field manager is as dumb as a table, and demand fresher berries than the ones in their basket that they just removed from the vine with their own two hands.
From grown men this type of behavior tends to induce hives in me. From my cat, I tend to glare scornfully at her and move on. My mother, on the other hand, has started becoming downright hostile with this animal who does not belong to her, who insists upon following her about the house howling her discontent about the state of her food.
"Look, you piece of crap, the food is in your dish."
"GO and eat the DAMN FOOD!"
"Oh, Go hang yourself, you useless piece of crap!"
"Look here, KITTY. I will WIN over you. DO YOU HEAR ME? You and your yowly ways WILL NOT BREAK THE DETERMINATION THAT IS SEATED DEEP INSIDE MY SOUL. I refuse to cave in to your whiny carryings-on and bring you new food! NOW STOP YOWLING AT ME AND EAT!"
I guess we all have little kinks to work out upon living under new arrangements.