proof you can take the kitten out of the wild, but not the wild out of the kitten:
while tossing the ingredients into the crockpot for the jalapeño popper taquitos i'm making, i pulled a few fatty parts off the chicken breasts and set them aside temporarily so i could salvage the meaty morsels and add them to the pot.
faster than you can say, "holy salmonella, batman!", a certain little furball took off across two rooms and three horizontal surfaces, hunk of fatty chicken as big as her little noggin hanging out of her mouth and dragging across said surfaces.
faster than you can say, "holy salmonella, batman!", a certain little furball took off across two rooms and three horizontal surfaces, hunk of fatty chicken as big as her little noggin hanging out of her mouth and dragging across said surfaces.
the sounds i heard while securing the rest of the chicken were reminiscent of some sort of thriller where an alien is feasting on some poor schlub's innards.
when i die, i sincerely hope it's not at home alone with these cats. jagger will probably allow me some dignity, but i'm afraid that if i'm not found quickly, the girls might chew my face off.
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