Distraction! Distraction! Distraction!

This morning at breakfast I had an especially hard time defending my food. I like to think that I don't ingest that many cat hairs, but who am I kidding, really? Still, I'm vigilant about protecting the six-inch circumference around my food.

I fix my breakfast on the counter, where no kitten has yet been caught. When all the elements are ready...plate, glass of water, mug o' tea, silverware...I juggle them all at once over to the kitchen table.

If, for whatever reason, I have to leave the kitchen, I pick everything up off the table and set it on the counter, then bring it all back once I return. Even if I just get up from the table to grab a forgotten napkin, I'll keep one eye upon my food. You wouldn't believe how fast kittens operate. Or maybe you would.

But just because I'm there, present, in front of my food, does not mean it's safe from kitten paw and kitten tooth. There's a certain arrangement of my plate and cups that I find especially helpful. Plate right on the edge of the table, directly in front of me. Water and tea both to the left of the plate, also on the edge of the table. Elbows out, left hand holding ever-present book, circling food and precious liquid and creating physical barrier. Right hand holding utensil or bagel or whatever... This right side is the weakest side. Ample opportunity for watchful kitten to sneak in and poke around.

This morning I had grapes. I think Meera can smell grapes from all the way across the house. Maybe this is partly my fault. I've been known to toss them through the air, all for the joy of watching kittens leap.

My table sits right in front of the window. Perfect, thinks Meera. I'll jump up on the 'forbidden' table. The lady will look up from her book with a stern expression, but I'll head right for the window and (this is crucial) sit down. She'll go back to her book. I'll listen for a page or two to turn, maybe she'll put down her bagel to take a sip of water...and that's when I'll make my move. I'll give a cute little mreow as I turn away from the window. I'll look her in the eye, as if what's out there can't really satisfy me; what I really want is some loving from her. How can she resist this? I'll sit real close to her right arm...I'll just sit...sit...sit. Ooooh, are those really grapes she's got on her plate?? So round, so plump, so tantalizingly bitable! Let me just reach out one paw and tap one. Just a quick feel, just to see if it squishes. Drat! She said the 'n' word!! Did she mean it? (Let me analyze the tone of her voice, how long she drew the word out, whether she looked at me or not...). Nope! She didn't mean it! So now let me just reach out and...

And so it goes. I had to sweep my Meerabelle off the table three times. Only now does it occur to me what I should have done...Distraction! Distraction! Distraction!