I translate this behavior to mean: "Pardon me, beloved human, but this belongs in a litter box, NOT my food bowl". I had trouble with Debra turning her nose up at canned food that she once liked, so when I presented her with the last in a long line of premium (and not so premium) brands and she did the cover up motion, I finally got the message and now she gets steak cooked on the grill which I then cut up in tiny cat-sized pieces and refrigerate in a ziplock bag for the week. Usually there is enough for two weeks, so I freeze half the little pieces. She also eats a mixture of various dry cat food. Spoiled, isn't she . . .