Where's The Gravy?

It's early morning and Writer Lady stands over Dobby in the kitchen in her nightgown, pouring fresh kibble in his food dish and giving him fresh water. Dobby looks at the bowl without eating.

“There you go sweet pea.” Writer Lady bends over to pet Dobby.

“Forget something?” Dobby asks.

“Do you want a belly rub this morning?” Dobby glares. “I didn't forget anything. Sorry kitty. It's breakfast.” Writer Lady answers standing up to full height and proceeding to walk away.

“It's Thanksgiving!” Dobby call after her.

Stopping in her tracks, Writer Lady rubs her hands over her eyes to wake up more. Turning around she says “Of course, Dobby. What was I thinking? Happy Thanksgiving.” Writer Lady says and leaves the kitchen.

Dobby finds her in bedroom putting on her exercise clothes. “It's Thanksgiving. I'm your kitty, your sweet pea, your baby. Where's the gravy?”

“What?”

“Where's the gravy?” Dobby repeats.

Writer Lady stares at him with a blank expression.

“I'm the cat. I love you. I snuggle you. I have to smell your farts all year long. I deserve special food too. So...what do I get?” Dobby says.

Writer Lady pets him thoroughly, rubs her head against his and says, “Thanks so much. I am grateful and lucky to have you in my life.”

“That's it?” Dobby asks.

“Dobby you get too much people food. You are still healthy now but you beg way too much. You have to learn healthier habits just like I do.” Writer Lady answers taking her weights out.

Dobby pouts.

“Seriously kitty, every time I have something in a bowl you beg. You beg for anything now.”

“Dairy and meat. Ice cream, yogurt, Parmesan cheese. Just the essentials.”

“Popcorn, scrambled eggs.” Writer Lady continues the list, stopping what she is doing to say. “Vegetable soup. Last night you begged for vegetable soup.”

“I like to play with the pasta shapes?” Dobby offers. The ginger tabby thinks for a minute and says. “I was feeling constipated. Yeah that's it. I'm irregular, Mom.”

“People food is not for kitties it's for people.”

“I think you are developing an addiction. I won't have you addicted to anything else. Catnip is enough. Let me finish exercising, please. I want to be at Grandma and Grandpa's by ten-thirty.”

Several hours pass while Writer Lady gets cleaned up and ready to go.

“Okay Dobby. I'm going.” Writer Lady walks over to Dobby who is laying on the back of the couch. She reaches out to pet him and he moves away. “No pet. No purr, no nuzzle?” Dobby glares back at her.

“She leaves me alone on Thanksgiving without any goodies and she wants love?” Dobby mutters to himself.

Writer Lady grabs her stuff and locking the door behind her leaves the house. Two minutes later she comes back in cussing under her breath. Taking a plastic container out of the kitchen cabinet she says, “This is for gravy. GRA-VY! Happy?”

Dobby blinks contentedly as Writer Lady stomps out of the house.

That my fellow felines is how you train your human.