It comes in a plastic container at a well-known pet food chain. Of the freeze-dried codfish and salmon varieties, the cod stinks to high heaven. Thus, “stinkyfish.” This is the name the kitties know…just as they know that when the coffee comes out, the treat will follow.

They love the stuff. I break the pieces into manageable bites (too expensive otherwise), and throw them. That’s part of the fun, the chasing part. Gotta call each one’s name…throw, chase. gobble, wait or the next one. Just the word stinkyfish is enough to get them running–although even that magical word doesn’t have enough pull to overcome their psychic Friday knowledge that a trip in the car is coming. That takes logistics akin to kitty D-Day: doors to the most hide-able rooms shut, strategic nonchalance that says “no, I’m NOT coming to get you.” Fortunately, the guys have short memories (or a high tolerance) for white lies. Or maybe it’s just the siren song of stinkyfish.