Enjoying a bowl of OJK in 1936 171 Bruyere Billiard alongside a dark roast mug of coffee.
I had a cat years ago, who was on the arm of my chair when m'lady asked me a question. I turned my head to answer her, and when I did, the cat grabbed the last bite of my lemon meringue pie. He had been waiting for his chance, and I had no idea that he was, the li'l begger.- It might be horrified disbelief: some cats have very narrow views on what cats should eat, and regard us as honorary felines in need of some re-education; on the other hand, I recall an occasion when my mother was preparing a lunch for the local Women's Institute: she made a large salad in a bowl and set it on the dining-room table, then went back to the kitchen to finish cutting sanwiches or whatever, leaving the cat alone with the salad - no risk, you'd have thought. The doorbell rang, as a WI member or two arrived a little early. Mother ushered them into the dining room. The cat (another ginger, what else?) was on the table, pawing slices of cucumber out of the bowl and eating them.