There were not a lot of brick-and-mortar grocery stores that accepted cats on their premises. For Howard, a 30-year-old bipedal tabby Persian cat with piercing green eyes, finding a place to buy groceries without getting kicked out was a feat. Of course, he could ask his 15-year-old nephew Paul to buy him what the house needed, but where was the fun in that?

Fortunately for the cat, Bag'N'Go Grocery was the most lenient of all groceries in their city, provided they came at closing time when most people had already finished grocery shopping.

Howard strolled into Bag'N'Go with Paul behind him, holding a short list of what they needed to buy. An aged security guard named John checked Paul's reusable grocery bags with a drumstick before letting him in. John titled his cap in a friendly salute at the sight of the Persian cat.

"Good evening, sir," the security guard greeted.

"Good evening to you too, John," Howard replied. "We won't take too long tonight."

Normally, Paul would stand awkwardly by the side, shifting his weight from one foot to another as his feline uncle made small talk with the acquainted guard. But tonight, thankfully, Howard was more interested in filling the pantry than chitchatting with the locals.

Howard hopped into a pushcart. He took the list from Paul's hands and led the way while Paul pushed the cart from aisle to aisle. They skipped the produce and meat section and went straight into the dry goods. One bag of brown rice, two boxes of cereal, one pack of salt, three cans of sardines, and eight packs of instant noodles later, the two finally found themselves at the farthest lane: the pet section.

"I knew this trip would be quick," Howard said matter-of-factly. "All we need now is my cat food. Care to see if they have it, young man?"

Paul moved away from the cart and perused the shelves. But after a minute of checking and double-checking, he came back empty-handed.

"They don't have your brand in stock, Uncle," Paul said.

Howard cocked his head and replied, "Are you sure you checked?"

Paul shrugged. "From the top shelf to the bottom. They don't have your cat food today."

"Well, that won't do." Howard hopped off the pushcart and took his turn checking the shelves, even though he was only 1/3 the height of the racks. He let out a gasp when he realized that his nephew was right.

"This is an outrage! I would not leave this aisle until we find a sufficient substitute," Howard announced. "Paul, come help me, boy. Surely there is grub worthy of my attention."

Paul pulled his attention away from his phone and staggered towards his fuming uncle. He took a cursory glance at the shelf and picked out the first colorful can that he saw. "What about this one?" Paul asked as he handed the can to his uncle.

Howard studied the label and the text written on the can. He shook his head. "This says it is 'chicken dinner."

"So what? It has chicken in it."

"Only 25% of it is chicken. The other ingredients are chicken by-products, vegetables, and thickening agents. No, I will not take anything labeled 'dinner,' 'entrée,' or 'pate."

Paul sighed in defeat and returned the can. "Fine. Well, what about this one?" The teenager handed a new can to his uncle.

Howard read the content and gagged. "This one has carrageenan! Do you want me to get cancer, young man!?"

"Hey, hey! Calm down. I just thought you would like it since it's cheaper. Fine, how about some dry food? This one will last you longer than wet food."

But Howard shook his head. "Dry food is too carb-heavy and does not have enough moisture. Besides, I am trying to watch my physique. Your aunt would hate to see her lover cat turn flabby."

It was Paul's turn to gag. "Ugh. Well, what about we buy you a week's worth of canned tuna instead?"

Howard gasped. "Do you want me to get a urinary tract infection with all that sodium? You are killing me, son!"

"Fine, forget it. Let's keep searching."  

The two continued their charade of Paul picking a cat food from the shelf, Howard rejecting it, and returning the food pack onto the rack. Seconds became minutes. The cashiers closed their lanes, and the customers claimed their baggage. The pop songs on the radio died down as the night continued. But Howard and Paul only realized how much their search had consumed their time when John was doing his roundabout in the store. The security guard found the two inspecting cat food on the floor, with cans and sachets scattered around them.

"Sir! It's closing time already. You only have five minutes to check out your groceries," John said.

Howard was the first to snap back to reality. "Oh my goodness! And we have yet to find a substitute. Oh heavens, what will I eat for this upcoming week- Ohhhh, that smells scrumptious!"

John, Howard, and Paul turned to an employee hauling leftover rotisserie chickens. Howard ran towards the employee. The employee almost dropped the chickens when he saw the salivating cat.

"Excuse me, young man," Howard said. "You don't suppose we can have those delectable leftovers now, can we?"

"N-no?" the employee replied, confused. "We are about to dispose of these anyways unless you want them, uhm, sir."

"We shall take your entire stock!"

The employee loaded the last three rotisserie chickens into Howard and Paul's cart, packaged in a plastic bag with a baggie of sauce. Paul whistled and said, "So you'll eat all these in the foreseeable future?"

"Not unless you want to have a bite yourself, dear boy," Howard replied. "Otherwise, I will freeze the leftover. And hopefully, by that time, you and I may purchase my favorite brand."

"I'm no vet and all, but don't you think eating nothing but roast chicken is, uhm, unhealthy?"

"Give an old cat like me some grace." Howard smiled. "A cat like me needs a cheat day. Or, better yet, a cheat week."