Adventures with: Dead Sh*t

I have strange pets. Today, we shall focus on my cats. They are very sweet, loving cats. Unless, of course, you are a small woodland or flying creature. Otherwise they are evil demons who will rip you apart, devour your soul, and leave your corpse to rot in the kitchen of a poor former fry cook. I, being the fry cook, do not think they are very sweet, loving cats at all today. I shall explain.

My great-grandmother died last week, and I had to go to her out of state funeral over the weekend. Being as my dog was about to burst with puppies, I boarded her at the vet and left the cats to their own devices. Mind you, I'm not cruel. I left them plenty of food and water. I figure since they don't have much to do with us anyways, they would be fine for a few days.

This is what I came home to yesterday.

Yes, that is blood-spray on the walls. The cats dismembered a lizard or a skink and left it for me to clean up. It was quite unnerving how far the blood sprayed in relevance to the creature. The cats wanted to be loved on last night, so I gave them as much attention as they wanted as I did not want them doing the same to me as I slept.

I loved on the cats again this morning, hoping it would be enough for their liking. I was scared because I knew what they were capable of. Since I was up all night worried about their potentially plotting against me, I thought it would be safe to nap while they were doing their morning prowl.

Skeeter-Waller, the boy cat, woke me up with very proud yowls to bring me to the kitchen to see this:

I am now terrified of the cats.