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And their cat Kenny “Gerber” Kinkaid….

By Richie Ann Ashcraft
I bought some Gerber baby food for our recent camping trip. I know…I know. I said I would avoid buying commercial foods but the convenience and nonperishable qualities seemed unmatched when facing three days of cooler storage. Upon returning, there was still a jar of chicken and gravy left which I popped open for the EDL. As I’m feeding this thick meaty sludge to the baby, my cat, Kenny, suddenly appeared from his closet hideout and began rubbing my legs frantically. He could smell it a mile away and SO wanted some. I dished up a dollop…then another…and before I knew it there was more in Kenny’s tummy than the baby's. kennyblog.jpg Kenny has cost a small fortune. He crawled up half dead on our downtown doorstep one winter. He spent a couple of years frightened in kitty rehab under our couch and is now a finely adjusted pet. I even include him on our answering machine..."You've reach the Ashcraft's, Marty, Richie, Soren, and their cat Kenny..." Last Christmas, he had surgery for hyperthyroidism…then a few weeks later another surgery for bladder cancer. He now has half a bladder shaped like a hot dog. Poor Kenny Kinkaid. It is apparent that he is on his last life. He’s been starving all summer refusing to eat but the most essential wee bit of soft or hard cat food. This makes me really sad. That being the situation, I’ll feed this cat just about anything. Seeing him lap up that meaty goo makes us very happy pet owners. I tried to make him a healthy version by boiling and blending a chicken breast. He liked it but didn’t dive in with nearly the zest he does for Gerber. So, my plan to save money by making my own baby food has been foiled by the damn cat. Yesterday, Soren and I trudged up to the corner store to buy 12 tiny jars of various meat products at a cost of .82 cents apiece. That’s per ounce and on sale! Talk about gas prices. I was horrified wondering what the clerk must think as I deposit the jars like a little rock collection all over her counter and then reach down to adjust the tie-dye hat on Soren’s head. I overzealously explained that I have a very hungry cat that needs this potted meat so she wouldn’t think Soren was on the Atkins baby diet. She smiled flatly because she obviously didn’t believe me nor care. Yes, Robin, there is irony in every day and very normal lives. I guess those baby food companies are going to worm their way into my cupboard after all.

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