Disaster as the Credit Crunch brings Crunchy Bits!

Somebody's switched the summer off! This morning it's suddenly turned murky, windy wet and rather cold. I haven't even had time to don my winter coat, so today I've gone into feline hibernation mode until things warm up again. Sigh.
Indeed, it's been a tough week for all residents of Meadowside, including Wilfred the Woodpidgeon, who's sitting all puffed up on the rim of the bird bath in the horizontally streaming rain storm. Millhouse is peering at him through the flatcap but with no intention of making a hostile move in such inclement conditions.
Atop this seasonal misery, the credit crunch seems finally to have filtered down to cat bowl level in the kitchen. You see, being cats of a middle class nature, (i.e. we're generally polite, keep ourselves clean and enjoy our creature comforts) we expect a regular supply of food pouches to be provided erm, well, on demand actually. On occasion, we'll settle for a supplement of crunchy bits which are sometimes offered, usually only if we otherwise refuse to vacate the kitchen. Yes, well, that's how we like it. Our routines are paramount to our happy existence. On stirring ourselves this Thursday morning, imagine our dismay to find the humans baring empty palms at us as we awaited our breakfast. What! No pouches left! This could not be! Ears back, eyes wide Millhouse and I looked at one another. Is the world about to end? Is our everlasting alliance with the human race about to be destroyed? We drummed our little bobbly pads on the floor impatiently. Even our extra loud purring which induced a fore and aft rocking motion of our furry bodlettes didn't induce a result.
The Crunchy bits box appeared; knobbly contents shaken out (like a pictogramme biscuity version of alphabet soup - why? I might ask. Do we need a fishy shape to tell us it tastes of fish; or a bony shape to tell us it's a bone!?). We both stepped back a bit. We made sure the humans could sense our disappointment by pulling mournful faces and lifting a pathetic paw. However, eventually we ate. We had to for that's what our tummies demanded. But the grudge has been lodged, and they'll regret it in the long run.
So now I know what credit crunch means; when humans run out of credit we get the Crunch(y bits)! Who'd have thought that a wobbly American housing market would spoil my breakfast in drizzly Dorset!


Herky