Corn chowder and cat diet observation

Today it was cold, not a nice day to be outside for too long. Time to fire up the wood-burning stove and dream up something to cook slowly in a big pot. From last summer’s leftovers from the high ranch we had food that languished in the back freezer. Like a slab of thick-cut bacon. Premium stuff. In the fridge was a package with six pieces of corn on the cob. It didn’t take too much imagination to decide to make corn chowder, the perfect chilly-day meal.

I cooked the bacon on the wood stove to perfection. Then I sliced the corn from the cobs. Some of it popped off and landed on the floor. When food-like things hit the floor, Boots the cat pays attention. She glommed onto the raw corn bits as if she were starved! A veggie cat? Cats are strict carnivores, I thought, but then I remembered that Boots has also eaten bits of onion, potato, and even broccoli (kidding!). Earlier today I spotted Florence, Boots’ sister, eating fresh shoots of grass outside.

Am I to toss out the “knowledge” I have about cats’ diets? What if I related my personal observation to someone and had no way to back it up, authority-wise? Would I be dismissed as a mere anecdotal observer?

Cats are strict carnivores, period. I must be wrong. Forget what I said. Whew! Safe in the lap of established scientific dogma, I can sleep tonight.

Boots is wrong.

Stupid cat.

“…and in this corner,…”

It’s like the preliminary routine before a prizefight. Two opponents checking each other out before the bout to come. One, named Boots, feels uneasy defending her spot in one of the windows, glaring across the void to the stairs on the opposite side of the room at her adversary, Raven.

Raven is not happy; he’s been king of the house for years now without challenge. Boots is the official High Ranch Mouser, being mostly an outdoor cat, surviving by using her wits. Raven is well fed by his human staff, with an occasional bunny for variety in his diet.

It was going to be really hot today so I decided to let Boots come inside where it’s much cooler. Later she, along with her sister Florence, will be packed off to their winter lair in Death Valley where they become indoor cats at the Furnace Creek Ranch. But for now, we may witness the battle to decide who owns this place after all. “Can’t we all just get along?” was the lament by Rodney King, the recipient of a beating by Los Angeles police that started a race war in Los Angeles several years ago. Cats don’t get along without a fight first, kind of like horses. Our herd consists of half of the horses who hate the other half of the horses, especially when it comes to who gets to eat first.

It’s a good thing that people are so compatible and get along so well with each other.