Behold the Power of Cheese.

When it comes to cats, I like to believe that mine love cheese not because they are cats, but because they have advanced and sophisticated cat palates, and I have taught them well.

Ok, maybe not. They do enjoy drinking the toilet water, and I know that I definitely did not encourage that. But I have to say that their fondness for fromage goes above and beyond the every day cat picking at what they find in a garbage can – which they never do because they hate the way garbage smells. See? Sophistication!

A Sunday snack of La Tur, crackers and fig jam, meant for Jon and me

"Hey, do you smell cheese? I smell cheese."

"Excuse me, but I see you have some La Tur there..."

"... and if you don't share it, you can expect a present from the Turd Fairy on your pillow tonight."

"Oh! Hey! You found the cheese!"

"cheesecheesecheesecheesecheese"

They never miss an opportunity for cheese. I have to stealthily gulp down little cheese snacks like a fat husband trying to sneak a few spoonfuls of ice cream out of the freezer without his wife knowing.

But they're onto me.

"Are you hiding cheese up there?"

"I'm going to have to confiscate this."

They know no boundaries. They do not comprehend humbleness or humility. Only cheese.

"Give me your cheese sammich please."

"Haha! My cheese sammich now!"

"No, seriously. I want a slice of the cheese pizza."

Their focus and dedication is admirable...

"This is not the cheese you are looking for. You can go about your business. Move along."

... although occasionally a bit mislead.

"The is a very peculiar cheese wheel."

Apparently, cheese begging is a really strenuous commitment and requires something else that my cats do expertly: sleep.

I think I may have taught them that as well...

Cheesed out