"Maybe Molly needs a table," said the Mama, eying the barely touched breakfast plate of food on the floor.
"She wouldn't be able to reach her food," I said, envisioning Molly the Cat sitting at a little kid's table.
"She has too bend so low to eat," Mama said. Molly the Cat circled her plate, sniffed it, and walked away.
Molly had to have been hungry. She tried to climb on my calves (yeah, I have big calves) while I was spooning her food onto her plate, which was her sign of saying "Hurry up, Human!" I set the plate down. She took a few bites and walked away. She'd been doing that for a couple of days.
Maybe the Mama was onto something. I went into the hallway where a whole bunch of nothing rested and found a cardboard carton to hold take-out coffee. It was the perfect size for the plate to rest on. So, I tried it.
"Come here, Molly."
Molly approached her breakfast. She sniffed her makeshift table. She sat down and ate.
Life was good with Molly the Cat and her table for about 10 days. Then she started her I-don't-want-to-eat routine again. On her second night, I picked up her nearly full plate from her table to toss away. Molly followed me. I put the plate down on the floor. "Last chance, Molly. You snooze, you loose."
Molly sniffed the plate and ate it all up.
I went over to get her table. A small piece of dried food was stuck on it. Ah ha! Her majesty would rather go hungry than eat off a dirty table. But, then, who would?
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