Today as I was compiling data and making redundant graphs, I realized that I had left a loaf of artisan bread on the counter.
Normally this would not induce me to leap from my chair and rush to my car, however, I am still pet-sitting and I swear to God, that cat has an eating disorder.
Last night it sneakily jumped onto the counter to lick the dirty silverware in the sink. There it promptly slipped on the edge of the sink and got dunked in dirty dishwater.
Oh ho! I laughed.
Ten minutes later, there he is again. So I walk over casually, grab the sprayer faucet and hose the little bastard.
Now that was a surprised kitty.
A few days ago he even was tearing into the bread I had just brought in from the car before I could let the dog in. He spends the majority of every evening pounding on the pantry door and raowering for food.
All I could picture as I rushed home was his fuzzy fat kitty corpse all burst with olive rosemary bread like the fat guy in SE7EN.