There is a short corollary to the conspiracy that started earlier this week. Last night at around eleven, once again, I heard a loud BANG coming from downstairs. I go downstairs to find that the entire snack container has fallen to the floor. Thankfully, the lid was more or less on, and only a few bits of treats spilled out. And there was Nora--no longer ashamed of her actions--standing over the container eating the dog's treats.
So I picked up all the wayward snacks. Nora kept rubbing up against me, which is strange--usually she is trying to maneuver a way to pry my eyeballs from their sockets and bat them around like a Christmas ornament. I walked towards the trash can to go throw something away, and she raced to the basement where her bowls are at, which is normally a telltale sign that she is either hungry or thirsty. Sure enough, her food bowl is bone dry, so I felt bad that I accused her if high treason and gave her some food. Clearly this is why she was trying to get into the treats--poor girl was starving.
After I feed the cat, I go back upstairs to bed and retell this to my wife.
"I just fed her at noon," she says.
That's right. That stoopid cat got fed twice today.
I don't think this is a proper conspiracy this time. I think this is just my glutton of a cat trying to get more food. Dexter is merely an unindicted co-conspirator.
My wife tried to defend Nora by stating that she is just putting on her winter weight. I say she just got done watching a My So-Called Life marathon on Hallmark and is eating her feelings.