Here's a question for you: if the old woman neglects to fill my bowl to the very top, is it seven-eighths full or one-eighth empty.
This question has been occupying my brain since this morning when I heard the sound of doors being opened and sachets being ripped open. About time, I thought, breakfast!
I ran into the kitchen and slid to a halt beside my bowl.
Umph. The bowl was only seven-eighths full. The old woman was closing the cupboard door. I meowed loudly and looked at my bowl. My eyes said: ‘I’m eating nothing until you have fulfilled your obligations as a member of my staff.'
The old woman stared back. I stared at her. I looked at my bowl again. She shook her head. I sat on my haunches and looked accusingly up at her. I meowed loudly again. She continued shaking her head. I meowed louder.
Then she said: ‘Oh for goodness sake, Carlton,’ and retrieved another sachet of food.
My original thought was correct. The bowl was one-eighth empty.
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