My Special Purpose

Everybody in the world, whether they know it or not, was put on this earth for a reason.  For some, it's to save lives in an emergency room.  For others, it's to feed starving children in third-world countries.  For me, apparently, it's to make sure that Mister gets all of his mush, and doesn't get railroaded by the other cats into giving his up.

Yes, it's my Special Purpose.  It's humble perhaps, but I embrace it.  My job is to stand there and keep the other cats (Reggie, Elroy, and Otto in particular) from stealing Mister's food.  Because Mister is, without a doubt, the world's slowest feline eater.  Mister is either the reincarnated version of a Southern belle ("oh my, I really couldn't touch another bite"), or else he was French in a previous life.  Mister delicately, deliberately, savors his mush.  Every tiny little lick of it.  In the time that he takes to eat one sixth of a can of turkey, Reggie could have scarfed down his, Wanda's and probably seven other cats' portions.  And don't think Reggie hasn't noticed how slow Mister eats, and how easy it would be to get a whole other plate of food in the bargain.

So I get to stand in front of Mister and run interference.  This evening, it looked like this:  Mister is in the dining room, under the table, eating his mush.  Reggie comes around the corner from the kitchen, and I promptly bar his way into the dining room.  So then he slinks under the china cabinet, where I can keep an eye on him.  But then here comes Otto, also out of the kitchen.  I have to bar his entrance into the room, too.  So then Reggie sees his chance and tries to bolt out from under the china cabinet.  I karate chop down with my hand to keep him incarcerated under the cabinet.  So then Otto makes his move, heading for the dining room table.  I'm squatting on the floor, one arm beside the china cabinet and the other extended to bar the charging Meezer.  I sit like this for what feels like an hour.

Then Mister lifts his head up, backs up, licks his lips leisurely, then heads back into his plate...again.  So I sit there for a while longer, wondering if I'll still be able to feel my legs when I stand up.  

Finally, Mister has his fill, and walks past me nonchalantly.  I lift up my hands and Reggie and Otto have at it.  Honestly, you'd think we starved them.

But at least I found my Special Purpose!