As far as cats go, Watson has been the epitome of normal. He usually is running around like a bat out of hell, hunting his little spring toys, pieces of paper, or the kids’ ankles. There has been no crazy barfing, no eating of afghans, no missing of the litter box. The oddest thing I can say about him is he has a bit of an addiction to peppermint.
I’m probably jinxing myself here.
Despite his normalcy, he was successful in freaking me out the other night. Steven and I were lounging on the bed watching snarky movie commentaries when Watson came bounding up to us after running laps around the kitchen.
He is munching on something.
“What’cha got, Watson?” I ask.
He looks right into my face and stretches open his mouth, releasing a humongous black something out of his mouth and onto my ear.
“Yahhohmygodwhatthefuckgetitoffholyshit!!!” I scream while bounding backwards off the bed. Steven looks around frantically for the Satan Bug.
We never found out what exactly Watson had leashed upon me. We’re pretty certain he finished the job and ate his prize soon after.