Andrew just really loves his stupid cats, okay?
For the fifteenth time in three weeks, Sir isn’t eating. It’s the same every time: Andrew will buy a new bag of food, Sir will eat it happily for a couple of days, then promptly go off it. Andrew wonders if all Nicky’s fat comments are getting to him.
“Eat your damn food, you pathetic ball of fur,” growls Andrew, nudging the bowl towards him slightly. On his other side, King is munching contentedly on a bowl of the exact same biscuits. The kitchen counter is cluttered with almost-full bags of various cat foods.
When Sir does no such thing, Andrew stalks into the living room, where Neil is pretending to not be listening to his one-sided conversation.
“Sir won’t eat,” says Andrew, grabbing his keys.
“Ok,” says Neil. “Where are you going?”
Andrew stares at him impassively. “There are still three brands we haven’t tried.”
“Ok,” says Neil again, getting up to follow Andrew out of the door.
“We’ll try putting some sardines on it this time,” Andrew tells him, and ignores the blue-eyed man’s soft smile.
It may be the third time this week that this has happened, but Andrew will be damned if he lets his asshole of a cat go hungry.