Canned

You know, bad things are sure to happen when you refuse to listen to good advice OR verbal beatings stern warnings, especially ones that ring so clear you need not think long and hard to understand the meaning such as, "DO NOT RUMMAGE THROUGH THE TRASH!". I guess one would take heed especially if that one just had a treat of wet food. Such was the amount of aromatic treat that was given, the whole can was wiped clean and thus disposed of appropriately in the trash. But what happens when you leave the kitchen to live life elsewhere? Like say, make plans to maybe get down on the dance floor and shake that thang or maybe just watch The Biggest Loser. Meanwhile, little furry things get brilliant ideas and come together to devise a cunning yet simple plan to tilt the bin over and feast! It astonishes me how these cats are ALWAYS nosing around for food as if I have forced them to join in on the philantrophic act of a hunger strike for Darfur. Given their uncontrollable appetite (that rivals my fat ass Parsi's), it may not be so surprising that I find myself wondering if they're some mutant breed of insatiable walruses in feline disguise.

Anyway, here I am doing something else when my ears pick up a THUD THUD THUD. Now, what can that possibly be? Hmmm. Is it Parsi exercising to achieve a more desired figure? Or could it just be the sound of my beating heart for my prayers have been answered and a rockstar has just dropped from the heavens with a THUD onto my living room carpet?

Sadly a girl can only indulge herself in such wishful thinking for so long until reality catches up. The sound was coming from the kitchen and the 3 little ones were not around. I had a notion that I was likely going to find scraps of crap scattered on the floor. But little did I know I'd have more on my hands than I had expected. I went into the kitchen to find, not one of the two rowdy boys, but Jess - the usually well-behaved tuxedo princess -thrashing about, doing the moonwalk...without a head in sight. Literally. This is because,well, remember the empty can of cat food? It now held her little head captive.

I would have taken a picture except that my brain didn't instantaneously direct me to make a mad dash for the camera. Instead it had me more concerned on dealing with the situation without panic so I would not have to bury a dicapitated kitten. Because who would REALLY want a stiff headless kitten to adopt? How would I ever explain THAT to anyone? I have after all, a cat crazy friendly reputation to keep. Fortunately, I was able to remove it safely from her head unscathe. Indeed afterwards she felt like a star as heads turned her way for she then ended up smelling like a head full of processed fish. Who could resist that, eh? And here I am spending money on floral fragrant shampoos.