Digesting....in a box

I made a major strategic blunder this morning. Every day, upon arising, I am followed around by the cats who not only serenade me with a chorus of pathetic starving noises but have even been known to beat down the bathroom door, perch upon the shelf above the sink and punctuate my every action by administering periodic jabs with extended paws to soap, toothbrush and face. This performance only ends when we arrive at the point of the routine where I fill their bowls with cat meat. This morning I reached into the "cupboard of meaty goodness" and unthinkingly selected two sachets containing free samples of a "VIP" version of their usual fare (sent to me in a sinister ploy by our pet shop). I only realised something was amiss when Elphaba, normally renowned as the more dignified of the two (referred to indeed as the Audrey Hepburn of cats) rather than her usual performance consisting of hovering to one side until ASBO has chosen her bowl and commenced her feeding frenzy, shot past my ear, knocked ASBO to one side, and made a highly creditable attempt to ram her face into both bowls simultaneously. I barely escaped with my arm intact and had to count my fingers twice to reassure myself they were all still attached. My fear is that tomorrow, when I resume feeding them the usual stuff, their gratitude and appreciation will now be displaced by glares of contempt and mutterings of "What's this muck?".