Sir Sam lunch-a-lot, my portly, 13lb soppy feline, has been indulging. In cooking programmes.

This evening, I was curled up in front of the TV watching *Good Food* on BBC2 (for non-UK friends, it is a program suggesting good wines, interesting exotic recipes, and handy hints and tips for foodies).

One of the things the presenter (a celebrity chef who goes by the name Anthony Worrall-Thompson) was making, was a Swedish dish that involved lots of raw fresh marinated salmon, mixed with herbs. It looked delicious.

Sir Sam lunch-a-lot, being a gentlecat of impeccable taste, (so he would have me believe) doesn't normally indulge in watching the *goggle-box*. Apparently it *rots* your brains. Except for tonight.

He heard the word *Salmon*, and rushed up to the TV, where he sat transfixed by the screen as Mr Worrall-Thompson manhandled a beautiful piece of salmon and turned it into a dish manufactured for kings. I could see him drooling, as the word *salmon* was said over, and over. He was in awe of the TV and the TV Chef.

After the program had finished, he started muttering. Rudely. He *knows* the word salmon, and the fact I wasn't there, immediately on hand to give him the delicacy his little kitty heart desired, lessened me in his eyes. Quite clearly I was neglecting in my duties as subservient cat-slave.

He was not happy with the canned tuna I offered. As I said, he is a gentlecat of impeccable taste, and mere *canned tuna* does not, apparently, fit into his perceived image of what a gentlecat should eat. It's going to be a long night. His Royal Feline Lordship Tiger, and his right paw cats, Robbie and Pandora have joined the picket line on Sir Sam lunch-a-lots behalf. *Everybody* is ignoring me.

I, however, am going to have the last laugh....... because *I've* got the prawns...... [wicked grin]

Copyright © Helen Miles
May 10, 2001