7 Cats

My mom had 7 cats.  She would put down a big bowl of food every morning.  5 of them would compete for the food, stuffing their faces in or pulling the bowl away with their paws.

The two big males usually got to eat first.   The biggest was Brother, a black & white.  Moscow, a red luxuriously furry angora, was known to be cowardly and so Brother would push him out.  Of the female cats, Lucky, a mostly feral sleek tortoise-shell and two charcoal tabbies would push their way in when Brother finished.

The huntress, a beautiful sleek calico, would watch with disdain.  She rarely nibbled of the food.  When the eating was done, the fat cat, a rotund grey tabby, would saunter over and finish the bowl.

6 of the cats would run outside.  Penny, the calico, who was the smartest, leapt up to open the screen door.  She hooked her paw on the door handle, timing it so that as the latch opened her sleek body would hit the door and pop it open.  Mom never locked the door, and she never had to let the cats out.  Penny scampered out each morning and the others bolted out before the door could shut.  Farina, the fat cat would take a nap.

The cats were all treated the same.

The Moral of the story, of course is: all cats are different.