This is the tale of a cat and his fishes. Sort of. It’s really just another day in the life of Urie – Adorable Rascal Extraordinaire. He never fails to impress and entertain, as is regularly chronicled in his photos. (Pause for moment of quality appreciation for today’s photo.)
Ichthyology: (noun) – the branch of zoology that deals with fishes.
Urie’s penchant for the study of ichthyology was evident from his earliest year of life.
So, that said, let’s change gears. I want to discuss label reading. Well, that, and the resident ichthyologist. Stay with me here.
A lonnng time label reader, am I. As a nutrition professional’s essential skill, it’s a staple for just about everything – foods, drinks, lotions, shampoos, soaps, cleaning products, candles, clothes, paint. My kids used to roll their eyes for potential purchases that could not land in the cart without this necessary review. It did make for longer shopping trips, initially anyway, (and purchase denials), but such is the journey of a well-meaning mother to the grunts and groans of her children. And, now, as I puff up and boast, for the conscientious grown-ups they are,.. guess who the label readers are, huh?? – By direct teaching or environmental osmosis, be thee warned, our habits are learned.
Which brings me back to Urie.
As a professional label reading advocate, imagine my glee when I caught Urie (the curious, oh-so crafty cat fellow) dipping in to the mega container of Goldfish. Clearly this boy is clever AND smart, obviously reading the big print on that label right there, for a mighty reward to a nearly effortless fishing expedition. I mean, talk about shooting fish in a barrel.
The enticement lured the hunter’s delight (and surely rewarding all that clever label reading prowess). And, his innately rich curiosity, I’m sure, as all things in this home do certainly belong to him. The catch on the hook of his claw, however, failed to resemble the smell or flavor of his canned fish dinner. Fish wannabes right here. False advertising.. bait and switch. Shaped like fish. Advertised as fish. And, although still a sensory temptation, it ain’t fish. His disappointment palpable, didn’t sway his commitment. Surely one of his captured prey would satisfy.
At this point, I feel the need to defend the enormous vat of Goldfish crackers that made it past the front door of my home and was the barrel housing his false-finned prey. Yes, I’ve read the label – many times. Yes, there are some things there that are moderately good, and moderately not so much. And, no, I don’t usually stock such a robust inventory of those very unfish snacks.
I can explain.
When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I had a lot of morning sickness.. morning sickness that morphed into afternoon and evening sickness, and well past the usual first three months of pregnancy. It was often unpredictable and generally awful in its ninja form. I could go days with smooth sailing, thinking I was finally past it, and then whoop! Here it would come again. I was genuinely committed to eating clean, nutrient-dense foods at every stage – hitting the preservative-free, calorie and protein need marks carefully – as the veritable chef and oven for this little human that I was cooking. With one little snag… that morning-afternoon-evening-whenever nausea. It is a unique thing in a class by itself – a nausea unlike other nauseas. A monster who cannot be satiated and wreaks havoc for it. All in the great mystery and magic of pregnancy.
When this happens, you maintain your commitment to the conscientious lifestyle practices & diet, but you also desperately search for the most relatable thing that quells the incessant nausea. Applying various nutrition know-how to the recipe, I stumbled across Cheese Its and Goldfish crackers in an effort to strike an amicable agreement with my stomach (another trick to satiating that monster – lots of small meals/snacks). And, Eureka! Relief, at last!! Beside the bed, in the glove box, beside the couch, in my purse… these gods of nausea relief entered and rooted themselves in my world. At this later point in life now – well beyond pregnancy – I suppose you could call them a guilty pleasure, (among a few others).
And, so there is the odd occasion that these little friends land in my cart and arrive home with me. It’s not a regular occurrence, but I’m not without memory of their gift. I don’t recall why the mondo carton of Goldfish here. Pantry stocking for hurricane season, I think. Occasional stomach discontent is still appeased swiftly with this addition (along with a ready supply of ginger and charcoal). And, so, I justify.
In this case here, the dedicated student and hunter, Urie, did not give up. Each time the carton was retrieved from the pantry, or its contents poured into a bowl, he would yet again go fishing, (often before I could stop him), running off with his catch and bat it mercilessly around the floor. If it wasn’t going to manifest as an authentic ichtho snack delight, then, by God, he was still gonna have the last word.
