And so my husband had to work late on his birthday and miss his own
party at his parents' place. Mama Singh brought the leftovers the next
day, some cake and Indian vegetables and about two pounds of good maple
cured ham.

The hubby came home for lunch and cut for himself a nice slice of the
ham, when he got the sudden urge to use the litter box, and while he was
so occupied he heard the foreboding sound of a nice slice of ham
splatting on the kitchen floor. Through doing his business, he went to
see our Stosh and Roxie (Rokusaburo to you Iron Chef fans!) and our
foster-kitty Brian, noshing on a ham slice that had been knocked to the
floor, and sliced into three pieces against the grain! Our Roxie, the
most timid and dainty of the three, was the culprit, with Smell of Pork
on her paws as well as breath.

Two days later Hubby came home to fix a ham sandwich and watch whatever
it is that men watch on ESPN. The three cats sat right in front, begging
for a munchie. After Hubby took four bites from his sandwich, Roxie
figured that it must be a game--the two-leg takes a bite, so now it's
kitty's turn--and craned her neck up, grabbed the end of the ham slice
in the sandwich, and pulled out the whole thing. When the shock wore
off, Hubby decided to concede defeat and cut up the ham for the three
bandits-in-waiting. To his surprise, the two bigger and more dominant
cats allowed Roxie not only first dibs, but to get the biggest piece.
Thus proving that maybe there is something to the fable of Aesop about
the lion's share.

Baha