What, me finicky?

After perusing every can of cat food on the supermarket shelf, reading for ash content, and trying to decide which would be the most appetizing for Mr. Finicky, I finally decide on the most expensive brand of course and take it home to my feline companion, who always lets me know that he will eat only the best.

I open the can, place the contents into his crystal bowl, pick him up lovingly and set him down in front of the delicacy du jour, whereupon he sniffs, turns up his nose and runs through the pet door to dine on his stinky leftovers from last night which had been placed on the back deck for the hungry raccoons.

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