The Mystery Of The Cat's Disappearing Dinner; Or, A Typical Pre-Coffee Mornng Conversation

Scene: The Kitchen, First Thing This Morning.

I walk in, and notice a little plastic baggie lying wet and flat on the kitchen sink. Normally, it would contain the cat's dinner portion for that evening, having been left to defrost all night. But the baggie, its ends still neatly tied up, is empty except for a little water.

"Hello," I say as Skribe walks in. "What's this empty little baggie?"

"The little prick," he says, staring with some surprise at it. "He's gotten to his dinner. Look, I bet there's a hole in the side somewhere."

I watch him examine the baggie. After a while, I say, "So... he untied the baggie, ate all his dinner, washed the baggie clean, tied up the ends, and left it where he found it."

"I'm completely freaked out," Skribe admits, and walks out of the kitchen.

I put the empty tied-up holeless baggie in the bin and think: Okay, the cat needs more food, and I need to make coffee.

On with the rest of the day.