I agreed to feed my friends cats while she’s out of town. Her cats are fat and spoiled. They’re use to eating early in the morning, before seven. I spent the night at my lady friend’s house, and didn’t get to the cat’s until ten. They can adjust, was my reasoning. I walked into my friend’s house and there they were, they were just sitting there looking at me. There was disappointment in their eyes. They usually let me pet them, but not today.
The cats have their own special area in the house. Their private quarters so to speak. I walked into their quarters and found a bag of cat food on the ground. They had knocked the bag off a shelf and attacked it at the mid section where it was most vulnerable. There was a gaping hole in the bag, and remnants of the cats savagery strewn on the ground. The bag didn’t have a chance. It lay stiff, wounded. It was hard to tell who the ringleader was. I looked toward the cats. They weren't talking.
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