Pile'O'Brown

One has to wonder how this became a substitute for hunting, stalking, and killing fresh food. My ancestors did it (`too good to track your own fresh dinner? kids these days are so lazy.......'). My sharpened claws and pointy teeth also suggest hunting for food, but I only seem to use them on the comfort-pads found around the house, which contain no meat, just white fluffy innards. Instead, I get non-stalkable crunchy nuggets of brown-ness, already captured and stunned motionless, especially formulated to keep me sleek, shiny, and sated. Could be worse, I suppose. And, at least I have the tiled-wall in the rain-room that provides a rainbow of different flavours.