Hmm, MPSIMS or Pit? Okay, Pit.
I am Not Religious and have been rather adamantly so since my youth (i.e., growing up born again, enough of that). So, in his continuing quest to drive me crazy, about five years ago my husband experienced a religious conversion. If that wasn’t bad enough, this particular religion (or cult, as I consider it) compels him to observe way too many holidays, in peculiar ways, not eat certain things and not have them in the house, and I’m not supposed to have them in the house either. No–he didn’t become Jewish. Messianic. The whole group of them won’t say they are Jewish and won’t say they are Christian–they are believers. But they read from the Torah, in English and Hebrew (although even when reading in English the names are all given in Hebrew).
Apparently this alone didn’t drive anti-religious me crazy enough, so last year, before Passover, he read the label on the cat food and determined that it contained some leavening agent (brewer’s yeast), and therefore it had to leave the house for the week and the cat had to eat something else.
She was Not Happy.
This is a cat who, when Not Happy, slashes things.
I was not very happy either. In fact I was considering divorce, and I would definitely get the cat. We would have a big party. She’d get Meow Mix and I’d have shrimp. Mmmmm.
Instead of getting a divorce (and really I don’t want a divorce, just my own apartment), I sneaked some Meow Mix into my office, a part of the house that is indisputably My Place, and the cat visited often, and we got through the week without having our curtains slashed or losing any clothing.
This year I tried to pre-empt The Week of Unleavened Cat Food by having a reasoned discussion questioning why my husband’s spiritual well-being depends on forcing other people (and cats) not to eat certain things. And this year we have two cats who are eaters of dry food. Both active, healthy, and with nice glossy coats.
Well, it turns out that the new cat will eat anything, and is happy to have Fancy Feast, and will probably desire Fancy Feast forevermore. But the other cat is back in Slasher mode and things are looking grim.
I really do hate sneaking around (the cat doesn’t mind, though) and I’m thinking of just saying, “Okay. I’m feeding the cat her regular stuff in my office. Deal with it.” Or not. And I’m telling the cat she’s lucky he didn’t become a vegan.