Terribly

 The old joke: I have a dog without a nose.

How does he smell?

Terrible!

My life: I have a cat with teeth.

How does he eat?

Terrible.

The English teacher in me shudders just a bit at the lack of a suffix on those descriptors, since they should be adverbs, but you get the picture. My wife and I have developed quite the litany of discussions regarding our cat's diet. Rarely does a full day pass without one or both of us commenting on the consumption, digestion or combination thereof in reference to our little kitty buddy. 

Maybe I should have anticipated the struggle in which we find ourselves after spending my early years being inculcated by the lessons of Nine Lives Cat Food. Cats, in particular spokesfeline Morris, are finicky. Growing up in a canine household, it never occurred to me that a pet might eschew the slop set down in front of them. Most meals, snacks or stolen treats were inhaled upon presentation and the only question was is there more of that?

Not so with Mister C. Fluffington. He will mew at the top of his lungs for attention at or around scheduled mealtimes, but once a bowl of lovingly procured duck pate is placed in front of him, there is a fifty-fifty chance that it will catch his fancy. On those occasions which he does find himself pushing food around the dish, he will inevitably leave some portion to sit and become less than appetizing. Upon returning to his feeding station, "This? It's several minutes old. Bring me something fresh."

This is when my wife and I will begin the day's discussion of our cat's diet. We have cooked special diets. We have mixed in supplements. We have purchased special mouse-infused food that we hoped would satisfy our obligate carnivore. Chicken, lamb, salmon. The variety was not the concern. We know this because we have made a ridiculously careful study of it. Instead, it seems that the Fluff is most content when his caretakers are flustered by his habits. It is only those conversations carried out in hushed tones next to the sink that seem to give him contentment.

Finicky? How about Machiavellian?