He was my starter cat. I made a lot of mistakes with him, I guess. But he was bottle-fed and hand-reared alone, so he didn't know much more about being a cat than I did.
I used to buy moderately-priced cuts of beef, cook them and share some of it with him. He liked the end pieces that were done more. One time, Eck! suggested that I give him a bit of raw beef because, as she told me, cats go nuts for raw meat.
Not George. He gave me a look of "aren't you going to cook it" and then he tried to bury the dish. Which is hard to do on a linoleum floor, but he got the point across.
George, to the end of his days, thought that people food was what he should eat and that he should sleep on the bed sheets or the pillows, not on top of the covers. He was 90% attitude and I loved him so much.
May peace be upon you, George.
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