And that led to me very sharply saying "NO" when I was returning from the kitchen to the dining room tonight and seeing the cat starting to lick my almost-cleared plate of fish I'd left for maybe, MAYBE, 15 seconds.
Cat's gonna cat, even if the extra flavors of lemon juice and butter are lost on him.
And he got on my lap later and placed his head on my chest, so we still like each other.
* "The cat" because even a year-plus after starting to live with this cat, I feel guarded about talking about him too much -- he's not my cat, and somehow doesn't seem like mine to talk about.