My roommate, Daphne Clementine St. Mark Katz, demands excellence in all things: the best seat in the house, the center of the bed, and gourmet food served at regular times. She's had some tummy troubles as she's moved into her senior years, so a couple of years ago I had to put her on a prescription kibble. Although her kibble bowl is full at all times, she enjoys it in moderation - which is good because it costs a fortune. Twice daily, she receives a can of Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys. I have taken note of which flavors she prefers, and I buy all three and serve them in rotation.
In addition to all this, she requires cat treats ten times a day or anytime I walk into, through, or near the kitchen, whichever is greater. Whenever anyone comes into our home, she stations herself in front of the treat cabinet, looks up at them with the big starved eyes of those kids in the Christian Children's Fund ads, and meows piteously. She is saying with voice and gesture "Pay no attention to the full dishes over there! She's starving me! I shall expire at any moment unless you save me with cat treats!"
She is such a drama queen. I have no idea where she learned that.