When you feed a dog, it follows you to the kitchen, sits patiently, and watches you with hopeful eyes, trusting that you know what you're doing. Not cats. Or at least not my cat.
Whatever you're doing has to stop. Immediately. You're on the computer? She'll climb on the keyboard. You're getting dressed? Kind of hard to do when her claw is caught in your stockings. Sleeping? Not after she starts nipping the soft flesh under your arm.
Once you finally get moving, there is no meek following into the kitchen. Merrie leads. She winds herself around your feet, tripping you and getting herself kicked in the process, but she doesn't care. She's on a mission. There's a meal to be scored.
She guides you to the food, (which is at the opposite end of the kitchen from her bowl), because clearly, as a human, you are too stupid to find it yourself. And while you are ripping open the pouch, or popping open the aluminum top, she is purring like a crazed feline coach: "Faster, quicker, speed it up dummy!" Then you try to actually get her food into the bowl, and it's a miracle you come away with all your fingers intact.
When it comes to cats and food, it makes me wonder why female dogs are the ones referred to as bitches.