Oops, I Ate It!

I was indirectly tagged for this award...meaning, it was up for grabs and if you know me by now, I'll grab anything that has to do with food. Here are the rules:

"When accepting this award, you must blog about the food you have stolen when your humans were not watching. If you have never stolen any food, you must have been a really good kit or pup. You can accept this yummy tray of cookies as your reward! Next add the logo of this award to your blog." So go ahead, if you want to play too...grab the logo and play along.

I suppose that if I look at this literally, there is hardly anything I have stolen when my humans were not watching. I usually steal food right out from under them while they are watching. I'm pretty open about my thievery. Whether it's salad:

Or a little drink of mom's water:

Or peas:

Or cherries:

Nothing is sacred. I may have written about my passion for cheese and chicken, but that is NEVER left out unattended anymore because I get super twitchy over those foods. I have even taken cheese out of the mouth of my very own momma Ellie (when she was going for the very same bite).

My mom may have already had me confess about my chicken addiction in a prior post, but she couldn't find it in the archives so here goes again. This is my most embarrassing food moment.

I was about 5 months old, still just a baby. Mom and dad were having Cornish Game Hen for dinner. They each had 1/2 of a sweet little birdie on their plates. I was sitting on a dining room chair next to the table. I kept on staring at the birdies. I got twitchy. I got a little meowy. I was squirming in my seat, but still was keeping all four paws on the chair.

And then, in the blink of an eye, I leaped on the table and dove at my mom's plate. I snatched the game hen in my mouth. My mom yelled "NO"! I chomped her thumb. My mom screamed and grabbed her thumb. That was my moment. Off the table I jumped with the 1/2 hen in my mouth. Dad was yelling and I was running. I ran down the hallway to the bedroom and I hid under the futon with my prize hen. Oh I was brilliant! Dad reached under the futon and pulled me out, the game hen still hanging from my mouth. I said "grrrrrrrrr"....as tough as I could for a little 5 month old kitten. Mom was bleeding, I was grrrring, and then mom and dad started laughing. Mom had to pry open my jaws of steel to release the birdie. I was not happy.

Apparently the birdie was almost the same size as me.

No pictures were taken in order to protect the guilty. I was still a kitten cat so my record was wiped clean when I reached 1 year of age.