“Never give your cats little pieces of cheese from your sandwich when they’re little, no matter how cute they are… Because this is what happens later on!”
We have a little black cat that had a sister but it disappeared a long time ago. Their feral mother had a litter under the house and I made the wife get rid of them but she insisted we keep those two.
They both turned out to be Stone Cold Killers and used to hunt as a team. The black one is still a Mass Murderer, I have found two dead Robins around here in the last four days.
One in the yard and the other one in her usual spot for offerings on the back patio. That’s how I know it’s her. Usually it’s a bloody, half eaten mouse.
The damn thing looks just like this one,
The cutest little psychotic killer you ever saw.
Anyways, when those two varmints were really little, I would sometimes come home from work with a left over sandwich and sit down with the old lap top, open it up an snack on it. One time those two both came around and I gave them a few bites.
It only took one time.
Every single time after that, all I had to do was start unwrapping the sandwich bag and they were all over me.
It could be months in between this but one rustle of a sandwich bag and those two came hauling ass.
This was at least four years ago by now, the sister cat’s been gone at least two.
The other night I came home and for once the little black cat was actually inside the house, which is unusual. At night the little fucker likes to sit at the end of the driveway scanning the street back and forth just waiting for something to move so she can go kill it. She must have been in the bedroom laying on my wife. I sat down, opened up the laptop, reached down to my lunch box that I had dropped off next to the recliner , opened the lid and grabbed a sandwich I hadn’t eaten for lunch. I didn’t even get it all the way up over the arm of the recliner and I hear a THUMP come from clear across the house in the bedroom. I turned my head just in time to see this little fucking cat come tearing around the corner, it hauls ass straight at me, jumps up on the arm of the recliner and starts swatting at the sandwich in my hand.
I shit you not, that fucking cat heard that sandwich bag all the way in the bedroom.
I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been since I brought a sandwich home from work it’s been so long.
If that damn cat could talk it would probably be able to tell you the date and the time down to the minute though.
The funny part is that the bitch won’t hardly have anything to do with me most of the time, until I have a sandwich.
It just amazes me.