When I am alone, my table manners are rather piggish, but i suppose that's because I don't eat at a table, I eat at my desk. Which could be considered a table, except we tend to define things by their function, and this particular surface is a desk, so perhaps piggish is unfair.

Irony of the day: arthritis medication with a cap that old people can't get off, because of their arthritis.

That's like leaping off a precipice and trying to knit yourself a parachute on the way down.

I'm an open book. But some of the pages are stuck together.

One of my biggest fears is that I'm going to die alone in my home, and my cats will eat me because I am too dead to open their food cans.

Firekeeper still could not understand the human penchant for eating in company. Even less so, she could not understand the human desire to combine business and meals.
True, a wolf pack shared a kill, but not from any great desire to do so—rather because any who departed the scene would be unlikely to get a share...
She struggled...not to bolt her food and almost always remembered that growling when a person spoke to you was not a proper response.