Pouring the Kibble

Eleven personable cats are living in a house with me Meow Meow Meow Where is the food, old tired lady? I go get the kibble, come back and what do I see? Smart ones are in line with open mouths, meowing at me. The others are either not as hungry, or not aware. I'm not sure which. Some of them are chasing each other, one's eye has a twitch. I sprinkle the kibble, and as it hits their aluminum bowls, They run toward me with the happiest of kitten souls.