No fowl.

How much of a nuisance can a scruffy thing weighing in at about 7 pounds be? Somewhat. As we returned from morning errands, Hazel’s bid for attention took the form of bopping sundry items--from pens to a stack of newspapers--off the kitchen table, maximizing their splat value. She did not catch on, until I set one of the bags down, and she stuck her small, slightly scabby head inside, that one of our calls had been to the purveyor of fowl-free kitty foods, otherwise known as “Crunchies Natural Pet Foods.”

You’d hope that a kitty you rescued as a desperate and homeless six-month old, 10 years ago, by tossing a hoodie over her and taking her home, would have the courtesy to not be an unnecessary expense. But, for reasons known only to her mast cells and basophils (and they’re not talking,) bird in her diet will provoke her to lick herself into a bald, gooey, pink thing.

It took some time to completely figure this out. Several years ago, when this all started, the standard-issue “hypo-allergenic” food for cats, purchased through the veterinarian, was made of duck and green peas. I thought I was doing all I could, yet I still had to cart her in every 3-4 month for a steroid injection when the bald pink patches appeared. Clearly not a healthy choice. A couple years into this protocol, the vet informed me that now duck was considered to have similar allergenicity to chicken. At this point I turned to Crunchies, 15 minutes down the road, to seek alternatives.

Chicken-free cat food at the grocery store would be a rare find but, at Crunchies, I can come home poorer in cash, but well-stocked with small cans containing venison, rabbit, lamb (Forest Friends, Becca calls it,) and seafood of assorted stripes. Each new variety must be put to the test. When you open a can of food that your cat doesn’t like, she doesn’t say “Thanks for trying, but it appears that somebody put the bass-o-matic on 'chop’ instead of ‘puree.’” No, she leaves off the “thanks” part altogether, and just stares at you the way the aliens at the end of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull stare at Cate Blanchett just before they make her head combust. So you say “Aha...‘Outback Grille’ is out, eh? How about some nice ‘Polynesian BBQ?’” Actually, you rarely offer a second choice. Once a variety has been established as “acceptable,” subsequent refusals will nix it from a position on the “buy” list, but my on-the-spot response will be more along the lines of, “Fine then. Looks like it’s nothing but fishy kibbles for you today.” So far my head has not exploded from the glaring.

She has not required a steroid injection in almost 2 years though, thanks to her bird-free diet. She’s still a bit of an itchier-than-average thing...I guess some of us just come into the world that way.

Chessie, on the other hand, is permitted a dish of chicken-based kibbles in the garage, where Hazel never goes. (Having spent her first winter alone, outdoors, and cold, Hazel does not trust outside, and will not go there.) Hazel and Chessie rarely have matching preferences in canned food, though they both favor rabbit. (I realize that rabbits must breed quickly, because they apparently taste too good not to.) They both universally panned this morning’s selection. So much so that Chessie crankily bopped Hazel on the head, and Hazel doubled the intensity of her laser-stare. “Marbella Paella” has been culled from the list. Another breakfast down.