The combination can be hazardous. Or at the very least, Uber Gross.
The other day while making some birthday cards, all three cats as usual had to be right in the thick of things "supervising" my every move. Which reminded me exactly WHY I preferred to do this at the scrapbook store on cropping night - no pesky paws to get in the way.
So when their catty instincts became too powerful to overcome and the knocking of tiny, sparkly brads onto the floor commenced, I attempted to distract them with spare lengths of shiny ribbon.
Which satisfied their curiosity for all of two seconds, until they decided whatever I was touching was far more interesting.
But then something else suddenly attracted their undivided attention.
As soon as it entered the room, the insect was doomed. The trio of cats chased and swatted at that damn fly all over the desk, the shelves, the chair ... and me. Soon Tawnee got one good slap in and sent it reeling, finally dazed on the carpet, the occasional "Buzz! Buzz!" shaking its prone body.
And true to feline fashion, she retrieved her trophy, proudly swaggering around the room with prize in teeth for all to behold.
Concerned that she might eat the pestilent bug, I tried to grab it away from her.
She would have none of it. Swiftly dodging each unsucessful grasp, it became a game. After many failed attempts,
down it went after a sickening crunching of its exoskeleton and papery wings.
She seemed quite pleased with herself as she paraded out the door, Queen of The Fly Killers.
* Gak. *
And then I came across the latest episode of Simon's Cat just a day later:
Come to think of it, I guess it could have been worse.
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