I am hereby taking over this blog. I mean, good grief, don’t they have better things to do than to write about food? Not that there’s anything wrong with food. I like food. Food is the natural prey of the Bubba. And that’s me. B.L. ZeBubba. Bubba for short. So they should be cooking more of the food. And sharing it. Definitely sharing it. And I am a vicious carnivore. Or something like that.
Oh fine. I can write about food. Last night there was the green stuff. Mama made the mushy green stuff. Green stuff is the natural prey of the Bubba. Mama says it’s not natural for cats to eat gwak-a-whatsit. I don’t care. It’s all mushy and yummy, and I will eat it all if they aren’t looking.
I preyed upon a scone this one time. Daddy said that really wasn’t fair because it was his half that I ate. You snooze, you lose. Besides, scones are the natural prey of the Bubba. It was strawberry. I like strawberries. And Hobnobs. Even stale Hobnobs. I give Mama kisses for Hobnobs. She says I’m just trying to steal it out of her mouth. It’s not really my fault. Hobnobs are just the natural prey of the Bubba.
Mama keeps telling me I should have manners. I keep trying to tell her that my manners were in the tip of my tail. And it’s all her fault anyway. When I was very tiny and starving, she’s the one who carried me around in a scarf around her neck while she cooked Thanksgiving dinner. That’s when I really found food. Mmmm. Sweet potatoes with maple syrup. Sweet potatoes are the natural prey of the Bubba. Oh, and pumpkin cheesecake. And green beans. And turkey. And ham. And mashed potatoes. And salad. And…
‘Scuse me – drooling on the keyboard. Daddy will enjoy that tomorrow. Oh well.
Mama’s gonna make root vegetable soup tomorrow night. I got to get me some of that. Root vegetable soup is the… You know.
Drool again. Cool.