I’ve been making meals for myself for 15 years now. No more planning dinners for my significant other since I no longer have one. My ex was a meat eater and I’m not, so I cooked him a typical Midwest meal of meat and potatoes with a side of vegetables thrown in for good measure. I, on the other hand, enjoy anything without a face, like my roasted tomato-vegetable casserole, salad on the side.

Oh, how times have changed. Once I’d acclimated to cooking dinner only when I felt like it (even though my ex never expected me to cook for him), I’d just wing it. For instance, I’d simply enjoy cheese and crackers followed by fruit with yogurt. Or maybe I’d have breakfast for dinner, something my dad always enjoyed.

So now I’m back to cooking for those in my home who depend on me for their daily sustenance — my 10 pets. They’re the opposite of my ex in that they expect and actually insist I make their meals. It better be ready at 9 a.m. and 6 p.m., respectively, or I’m gonna hear about it. Most of my pets aren’t much larger than a bread box (am I dating myself?) and since I definitely am larger, one would imagine they’d think twice before being so demanding.