This involves a cabal of cats, as many as seven (in our case) or more.
The conspiracy commences over food, despite their usual disparate hierarchal infighting.
On this topic they all agree. Nothing that their humans provide for them, unless it's hand delivered coconut oil or cheese, is good enough. And even then, some will balk at the delivery method of coconut oil on the hand, preferring to lick it off the spoon simply to ensure the humans have another washing up item with which to contend.
The staff must earn their right to serve cats.
One of the seven likes only the cheapie pellets and nothing else, another likes these mixed with a better product but only if served in her bowl - no other bowl will do despite impending starvation when that bowl is empty (read: containing pellets but bare in the middle section - cat empty).
Yet two others will sit and stare longingly at the backs of the feeding cats wondering why the humans have chosen to feed only them and not us...until one of the humans scoops them up and deposits them in front of their regular unattended bowls just beyond the feeding cats where they've eaten for the last two years...
One snoozes contentedly on the humans' bed knowing he can eat at his leisure once the rabble have completed their stupid daily ritual. He's the leader. Even if the rest of the mob don't know that yet. He doesn't have to demean himself by showing a need for these human handouts. He will wait.
And once it's all over and at least one of them has vomited (not on a wipeable tiled surface or outdoors - it must be on a carpet or rug - staff must earn their keep), the mob will engage in a range of activity that mostly involves - well - sleeping. Eating and puking is tiring work, don't you know.
Once settled and the humans have embarked upon their own daily routine, any staff member alighting from a chair naturally signals a return of at least two or three expectant souls to the kitchen area just in case the staff have decided to replenish the (cat) empty (see above) bowls with new, decent food worthy of feline consideration.
Collective coaxing and cajoling may produce handouts from the shiny cold box or not but the demands must be relentless and varied.
Any other form of human movement, regardless of its non-feline intent, must be regarded as a potential feeding opportunity and the designated spokescat must meowl appropriately on behalf of the group.
Worst case scenario, the staff will repeat the ritual at around five o'clock whereupon the idiosyncratic pantomime shall reprise.
And that's why we love cats.
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