Oh, Brothers

Remember the other day, when I talked about my cats' obsession with Stella & Chewy's freeze-dried treats?  Well, it's gotten worse.  A whole lot worse.

My cats are still obsessed.  They still lose their sh*t over it.  But now, every time I walk into the kitchen, be it for a glass of water, to put something in the dishwasher, or, heaven forbid, to cook, I have four cats flying in from all parts of the house.

Seriously, I set foot in that room, and I have at least one cat there, meowing and looking at me with a crazed, expectant look in his eye. 

When I am actually in the kitchen to cook, that's a problem too.  Because the cabinet where we keep the Stella & Chewy's freeze-dried treats (which I will, from now on, refer to as "crack"), is also in the kitchen, and the cats know it.  Every time that cabinet door opens, the cats come running.  Also, if I should pick up a food product that is in a soft, crinkly package (like shredded cheese or croutons, neither of which is remotely crack), they come running too.  Heaven forbid I should put croutons on my salad, because I have four cats meowing and running around the kitchen, convinced I am putting crack on my salad.  Guys, I'm a vegetarian.  Mom doesn't put raw meat on her salad. 

It really, honestly is very, very funny.  But also very, very annoying, because Mr. Squiggles stands around, meowing at me in this desperate, heartbreaking meow that he has, and Q*bert runs around at my feet, begging to be accidentally kicked.  Gus stands around looking confused (per usual), but Samson tries to figure out how he can get to the crack.  Can I open the door?  Did the lady leave any on the counter?  Maybe if I whine louder, she'll give me some.  Maybe she forgot.  I'll remind her again. 

I've created four tiny monsters.  Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go purchase some stock in kitty crack.