First off, Buster had been out for a day and a night. Senyah (The "I
am not a cat person" lady - yeah right!) asks me where Buster is, and
tells me, "I kinda miss the little fart."

So I open the door this morning, and Buster comes running up the walk,
runs into the kitchen, pulls open a cabinet door, and takes a nap on a
bag of Cheerios. Apparently, except for visits to the food, water and
litterbox, that is where he stayed all day.

So I get home, heat up some taco shells, nuke some seasoned taco meat,
slice lettuce and shred some extra sharp cheddar. I fill up the
shells, and split them between me and Senyah.

In a few minutes, I hear Senyah hollering "No! Stop! Ouch!"

I figure it's Dulce Mae pushing stuff off the coffee table, but go
into the living room to see.

Senyah is holding Buster back, with all her strength. Buster is
straining with all his strength, and not a few claws, to get to
Senyah's plate.

Well, i finished my tacos with no interruptions, so I offer the plate
with taco leavings to Buster. He leaps to that side of the couch, and
tears into the plate. He apparently likes medium-strength picante
sauce, since that is most of what's on my plate.

I wander off to get a fudgesicle for dessert, and he has finished my
plate and set his sights on Senyah's plate once again.

So I pick him up. He grabs my shirt collar, and gives me an evil
glare, like, "No one can stop the taco acquisition! Surprise is our
greatest weapon!" (okay, bad Monty Python reference), and we go into
the bedroom, where he snuggles in my lap (hmmm, could this be his REAL
intent?).

All is well so far. Senyah just came in and put her empty plate on the
bed for him, he did his impression of a heavily clawed missile, and is
currently vacuuming the picante sauce from yet another plate.

First maple syrup, now picante sauce. Cats never cease to amaze me.
Especially this one...

Hugs and Purrs,
Mark