I hate going to the food store to hunt for prey. Dread, loathe and resent it. When there is a looming lack of food (dog/cat, both dry and canned) and clean litter, I resign myself to the mission. (Supplies of two-legger food? Who the hell cares? Make like a vulture and be game to scavenge for your damn meal!) Eventually, unhappily, the drive is made, the car is parked, and the feet are shod. From start to finish, the entire domestic task is really just a mad scramble to get back to the farm. A disgruntled whirlwind of dog, Foffdaughter, and cart will manage to collect clean litter, food for the dogs/cats, disinfectant wipes and few if any other items.
Load up the car, drive home, ignore the sensible approach to unpacking, and instead carry everything in one trip. Unlocking the door is always the same; fumbling with the 35 lb tub of litter, the key, the door, bags of dry cat/dog food... And then it occurs to me. Every single time, I have this dawning realization that I am being totally irrational. Why should I struggle to get food + litter into the house when I could just not? If I didn't feed the cats, it would lessen their daily massacre of every litterbox, which would then require fewer cleanings and therefore less litter.... I wouldn't need to carry either of them inside! Food is the fuel enabling the production of feces, and without it....
It is a fleeting thought which becomes lingering guilt.... And the cats gorge themselves on low-calorie anti-fat-cat food which becomes feces in quantities that are comparable to droppings left by an entire herd of bison .
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