Are my cats, in fact, plotting my death right now?

We ran out of the food they like a couple of days ago; they're not happy.

I've been sick all week, and there hasn't been anybody else around, though I guess I could have called Mom and asked her to bring food for the girls so they don't kill me in my sleep. But I didn't.

I really meant to stop at Doolittle's, the neighborhood foofy pet supply store, on the way home yesterday; but since I knew there was half a bag of Authority, which they used to like, and since I felt lousy yesterday, I decided to wait.

So every time I go into the kitchen they make these faces at me. They look up at me with their big, wide cat eyes and stare as they think "I'm starving!" all the while, they ignore bowls filled with food they used to like.

Mind you, neither of these cats is in danger of starving. They're both absurdly heavy. I see other people's normal sized cats, and if I compare them to Lola and Hecate, I think those others are scrawny and underfed. Hecate is particularly dense, although Lola looks bigger.

They haven't yet tried to kill me in my sleep, I'm happy to report, but Lola is sprawled like a bored child in front of the food dishes right now and Hecate is tapping my leg with her paw as if to ask "When are you going to the store? You said you'd bring the food I like!"

And she's right; I did say that, so I'd better go. I think I've got an hour or so before things get ugly around here.

before - after