The veterinary appointment for Renn and Cammie was postponed until later today, due to the doctor not being able to return from a conference in time. The delay allowed a foot of snow to fall in the meantime, which may affect my travel to and from the hospital. The cats, were they to know of their schedule, may applaud the snow, but I will get them to the doctor one way or another.
However, an immediate result of the postponement is that I will write about Cammie and the bread today, rather than later in the week.
I bake bread once every couple of weeks. I don’t mix the dough or set it to rise or put it in the oven. I have neither the skill nor the time for that. But I have a bread-maker I received as a gift years ago and I continue to use it. I enjoy what it produces, both in terms of edible result and of smells. The aroma of baking bread is a joy of civilisation. But until Sunday, no cat had thought similarly.
Though she has never taken an interest previously, Cammie caught a whiff of the baking dough and became mildly obsessed with it. It was at the beasts’ dinner-time, and this distraction threw off any desire the princess may have had for cat-food. She wandered about the apartment, her head raised, her nose twitching, ignoring all offers of proper nutrition. She wanted bread - or at least to know the source of the fragrance she was smelling.
Cammie at last found the bread-maker and inhaled to her heart’s delight. I can’t determine if she became disappointed or merely bored, but eventually she retreated. She sat on a chair at the dining table, something that further disrupted the routine - at least Tucker’s, who likes to relax there and wash his face following a meal.
But even afterward, Cammie wasn’t interested in her own food, not until snack-time hours later. At that moment, it was bread she wanted, and nothing but. The silly carnivore.