Thanksgiving food crisis

You will not believe what happened to me a few days ago. The people I live with suddenly packed their bags and left, without so much as a fond farewell. They were gone forever, or that's what it seemed like. I thought, surely, somebody will come by and feed me, for they had forgotten to fill up my food bowl in their haste to depart. Pauvre moi.

Oh meow, zee petite chat needs her food! Plus, it was Thanksgiving. Alors! I know it was Thanksgiving because I could smell the wafting aroma of turkey flesh cooking. It's not exactly what I prefer for Thanksgiving, but a cat does what a cat must do. If you must know, I prefer le beuf tartar for dinner, or a petit poisonne if possible. But I digress.

When they finally dragged themselves home I was considering eating newspapers. It had been three days since I heard the pleasant sound of the can opener, the rustle of a food bag, the tinkle of the chat treats hitting the floor. I was famished and so was my rather slim-ish companion. She's getting so skinny I don't even like to cuddle with her any longer. We dug in, and snubbed them royally for several whole minutes.

But now all is well again. The crisis is definitely over and once again life is good. I think I'll go sit in the window now and rest. Au revoir, ta-ta and all that.

Mini