Gobbets of Meat

I started giving my cat some raw cat food this week. Here in NZ, one can buy tidy plastic containers of chopped bloody meat especially for your cat. The supermarket ones tend to be lamb, beef, steak and kidney, and horse. Specialist suppliers allow you to get rabbit, hare, and just-right fowl, too. I'm not doing this because of the hype around letting pets eat raw; for whatever reason, she's suddenly not eating as much as she should of the dry food she's loved for most of her 13 years. Dealing with gobbets of raw meat is easier for me than suppressing my gag reflex as I handle canned cat food. We just went to the vet to check her teeth, so I know it's not that, and she got weighed at the time. Hm. I'll see how she's doing in a week.

Northey thinks this is great. She eats her 1/4 cup of meat gobbets quickly and cleanly, as if she's been reading the online pages about how she's supposed to eat her raw food.

Meanwhile, I'm getting older, too. Tonight's discovery; the platform heels I caught the subway in 15 years ago, exhumed from their storage box for a burlesque event tomorrow night, are suddenly a challenge to wear. I used to walk blocks in these.

And, I've been rereading Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet. To my horror it's coming across as pretentious sexist tripe, albeit hung on some great characters in a great setting. And yet, these books were such a part of my late adolescence. I guess liking them was my equivalent of an Ayn Rand/Objectivism phase.