I keep all my own wannabee little cougars well fed; but sometimes they give me the evil eye if I give them dry food when they want canned instead, or visa versa. This batch is so pampered that they haven't even learned to how to tear the cat food bag open. That certainly wasn't the case with an abandoned kitten I picked up wandering a backroad up in the hills - he was one smart little survivor and had already learned a lot of tricks. He'd even lie out on the street and bite pedestrians who didn't pause to pet him. He also attacked dogs and raccoons. Smartest, toughest cat if ever saw. His own cougar leaps were turbocharged with nearly lethal fishy smell farts. But his final mistake was attacking a moving Dodge Van for invading his territory. He's buried in the Valley of the Kings in a shoe box full of catnip, in that portion of the back yard adjacent to where my darkroom plumbing lines are buried.