Yes, my little ninja loves people food in all forms, and I indulge him with little tastes of things from my diverse American diet. Yogurt, pasta, pizza with pepperoni, carrots, oranges, hummus, lettuce, black olives, ice cream, potato chips, cauliflower, and even my chocolate protein shakes--Henry loves it ALL. If I am in the kitchen, Henry is at my feet. If I am snacking on the couch, he is sitting next to me with one paw on my arm. If I am sitting at the desk DRINKING A GLASS OF WATER, he is on the desk trying to stick his head into whatever vessel is holding my beverage. He cries pitifully for his treats (dehydrated shrimp), and watches my fork intently while I'm eating dinner.
NOMNOMNOM
Fidget, as I mentioned, does not like people food. He would much rather stick to his tried and true bowl of crunchies, and is perfectly content with a much more restricted diet. But Fidget is also an exorbitantly dominant cat, which makes his situation a little complicated. He does not like people food...but Henry eats it. Therefore, Fidget must eat it as well (or at least pretend to). It's a sad sight, really. Henry gets a tiny piece of whatever I'm eating (popcorn is a prized item), and Fidget will immediately try to take it away from Henry. So I will give Fidget his own portion of a kernel, and he will...analyze it. First, Fatty will cautiously sniff the popcorn (something that he has sniffed 10,000 times before), as if it may detonate in his mouth should he simply just eat it. By the time the sniffing is done, Henry is usually on his 3rd piece of delicious, buttery goodness. Then, FidgPants will swat at my hand until I deposit the suspicious piece of popcorn in front of him for further inspection. Then he will stare at it. He will scowl at that popcorn as though it has done him wrong and he's waiting for an apology. Once Henry is on his 5th piece or so, Fidget will begrudgingly try to eat the popcorn. He will chew it once, spit it out, and then try to take Henry's piece from him once again. I say, "No, you have your own, FatCakes," and give him a different piece, only to witness the same buffoonery. Chheeew, spit. Cheeeew, chewchewchew, spit. Sniff. Stare. Chheeeeeeew, chew, spit. This will continue until the end of time, or until I finally tell Henry that he's had enough and I take Fidget's saliva-softened piece of once-perfectly-good popcorn away from him. Henry is usually contented and will go bathe the last bits of salt and butter off of his face. Fidget, however, is convinced that the rations were not divvied up fairly, and will follow me around until I have put everything away and show him that it is GONE, no more.
I hope to one day find some food article that will appease both felines, successfully eliminating Fidget's dumb charade. But knowing my cats, I think that even if I gave Henry a live grenade, Fidget would still want to steal it from him.
