Wheaton’s Way

Is it just me, or is the pet food industry going gloves-are-off, Thunderdome insane?

I’d swear we’re a hair’s breadth from Fancy Feast Surf ‘n’ Turf (with choicest cuts of filet mignon and South African lobster tail) or Purina Peking Duck (including mini-pancakes with Claw Holds™). All ingredients ethically sourced by Michelin-starred Chef Daniel Boulud etc.

Maybe the above is a slight exaggeration, but today I spied Fancy Feast Organics for sale. You know what I’m talking about, where the can is even smaller and more expensive and the cat in the picture looks like something from an old Bond film? It may sound unkind, but I highly doubt that our cat Butterscotch – after licking his bum for 10 minutes – is going to approach a plate of food, sniff it, and turn to me, all, “Hmmmm… missus. This doesn’t smell organic to me.”

Then again, I don’t know if it’s the industry driving the evolution of fussiness in our pets, or them getting used to our overindulgences, but as gourmet five-star cuisine replaces tins of uninspired chicken and fish dishes on shop shelves, so the moggies in our home are starting to patiently wait for silverware.

We have seven cats in our household. Nope, that’s not autocorrect. They are different ages and each has their own unique personality. We would deny them absolutely nothing, which means we are basically enslaved. The furniture is either all secondhand or covered with protective pads like we’ve gone away from Downton Abbey for the summer. Why? Because there aren’t enough scratching posts in the world, and then there’s the whole ‘marking territory’ joy.

Anyway, much like other cat parents, my best friend/housemate Lynne and I are always trying to keep on top of their various likes and dislikes. If you were one of those anxious people I bumped into in the animal food aisle, staring sorrowfully at empty space where a particular type of Fancy Feast should have been, you know what I’m talking about.

I have seen people sending out requests on social media, hoping to find someone who has got the Florentine line of flavours because the supermarket only has pâté and Marbles just won’t eat that. “I have 24 cans of the Gravy Lovers that I could exchange for anything but the Grilled Collection… ,” someone might post. Who knew all those Pokémon card bartering skills would become useful later in life?

And, the thing is, I TOTALLY understand where they are coming from. Cat food is like an avocado. Once you’ve opened the can and put the contents on a plate, there is a tiny window of time when it’s moist and edible. If your cat runs over, inspects it, looks at you, and heads in the other direction, that’s good money down the toilet 10 mins later.

Now, some of you may say, “Well, why not test a bit before pouring out the full can’s-worth?”

Ah… you sweet, young innocents. Even when we think we’ve cracked the code of our cats, we haven’t.

You’ll often pour out the full can, because for the last four weeks, that was Waffle’s absolute favourite. Then, suddenly it’s a Tuesday, and it might as well be Brussels sprouts you’re shoving before them.

My cat Chiqui, who sleeps solely in my room, is like the Sphinx when it comes to working out what she’ll want from one week to the next.

I remember, months ago, finding this stuff in a bag that was pretty pricey. It was in a light gravy, the chicken morsels had been individually massaged to maximum tenderness, blah-de-blah. Anyway, she LOVED it. Week after week, she was horking it down. Then, of course, the inevitable happened: the market ran out.

I went from store to store, hunting for it. I practically grabbed the customer service agent by the collar to pull them close, imploring them to check in the back just one more time to see if there was an elusive box hidden away.

“You see, it’s all she’ll eat,” I sniffed, eyes like Puss in Boots.

Finally, I got a friend in Miami who was flying back two days later to bring me in some pouches to hopefully hold us over until the local shops restocked.

As soon as I had them in my hot little hands, I ripped one open, dumped it onto Chiqui’s plate, and stood back with a single tear running down my cheek.

She padded up, sniffed it, turned around, and disappeared under my bed. She wouldn’t touch it. None of the others would either, so the stray we feed had a field day, chowing down on $5 an entree.

I realise I’m sounding like my parents when I start with, “In my day… ,” but we had loads of pets when we were young, and all they ate was decent quality dry food, had happy, healthy lives, and made it to ripe old ages.

Yes, I know that it’s important what you feed your animals. Again, I’m not dismissing the importance of good ingredients, but it would be great if cats could be more cooperative, particularly with today’s inflation.

I suppose at least if worse comes to worst, and we do buy into the crazy advertising by pet food companies, we’ll have hurricane supplies for our furry charges and ourselves. I mean, come on – it’s organic! Hand me some of that Fancy Feast with a sprig of parsley.