Vulching like a Vulture

[I'm not amused by others sneaking between me and my plates of food.]

Ruru the Cat here. I used to be the one to perch over my people's plates every time, staking out my turf to make sure it was all mine. This was before my people were so foolish as to let the curse of puppies strike our house, before my people got addicted to letting silly little kittens or stray cats in my house.  The food was all mine, and they knew it. 

[Note the dumb cat vulching on the birthday cake that should have been mine.]

I could lay claim to an entire loaf of bread by chewing through the bag, be handed meat and cheese while my humans made dinner, and be handed the empty plates. Everyone knew their place, and it was to spoil me rotten.  It was my privilege, as my people would say, to "vulch," which, apparently, is derived from the word "vulture," whatever that means. 

[And now, there are more of them surrounding my cake.]

Now, Bean the eternal puppy, Varya the kitten, or one of the big, mean cats take my place. They chase me away if I even try to perch somewhere to await the dregs. I can scarcely go downstairs to get my own dinner anymore. My brother says this is my fault because I picked on all of them when they were little, and then every one of them got bigger than me. I say he doesn't get it. I'm the queen. It's my house. If they don't acknowledge it, that's their problem.