He's a freaking cat, not a baby!
Poor thing. He can't figure his food out. He thinks he doesn't want it, until I put some formula on my finger and he voraciously licks it off (and chews on my finger hoping more will come out...ouch!). THEN, and only then, does he figure out what that milky white stuff in the bowl is. Then he can't get enough. And only when he actually HAS had enough milky white stuff will he pay any attention to the yummy kitten tuna in the other bowl.
Boy did he make a mess of the tuna.
Someone needs to tell the little guy that it's rude to play with your food.
I think his name may be Spike. But I'm not sure yet. Neither is he. When he and I are both sure, I'll let you, my faithful readers, know.
Oh, and I cooked the mushroom soup I was supposed to cook tonight, but I haven't cooked the carrot soup and frankly I don't think I'm going to at this point. It's 2:30. I think a girl deserves some sleep for once. We'll see. Tomorrow when I get home I have to make mashed potatoes, but that shouldn't be difficult, nor should it take very long. Hopefully everything will get done. I did manage to clean off the dining room table a bit. Not that we'll be using it... we'll be eating out in the succah. But still. I don't like to stare at mess.
Oh, and our two big cats are really severely pissed off.