So why do you insist on standing at my feet while I'm preparing a meal for myself that you would find wholly unpalatable? What's that, cat? You want some hearts of romaine? No? Well then what the fuck are you wailing at me about? What's that? You want some aloo mataar? No? Indian food not your thing? Then leave me the fuck alone!
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There is a bowl of food sitting on the floor no more than five feet from where you are standing and jockeying for a taste of that delightful tofu. I even give you that fancy shit so you don't have to eat spinal cords and euthanised pets, or that whole eyeball I found in a can of Whiskas when I was a kid, but do you ever appreciate it? No, you stand there, protesting for a share of my tempeh, until I resignedly shove it in your face and watch you turn up your nose, only to resume your pained calls as soon as I return to what I was doing.
Look, I accept your life choices. I realise your physiology is such that a vegan diet requires a great degree of supplementation and monitoring, and I thus far have not had the money nor the desire to buy all that crap and pay all that attention to you just to keep you fed. I put my ethics aside and buy the stuff that doesn't support [relatively] inhumane slaughterhouses so you can have the animal protein your digestive tract is so suited to break down. You should feel lucky that your "Fisherman's Delight" is made from fish and not from seaweed. Because it can be arranged. Since you seem to want to go vegan so bad. You'll really be crying at me when there's nothing but soy for either one of us to eat.
No, you can't have any tahini!