Pink bag with a pink zipper containing pink slices? Owner trying to open it with her teeth, then with a knife, then combining teeth, hands and knife? (Let's face it, opening packages was never one of owner's virtues)
Doubt flutters in the mind. Eyes go O-o, then o-O, then o-O and finally, a sudden realization O-O.
TURKEY BREAST !
The beauty of high in sodium processed food strikes and a primal reaction takes place. Mr. and Mrs. Cat are no longer the calm and agreeable beings that exist in owner's head. They transmute into zombie-like creatures. Now even owner can catch a glimpse of what the most abhorrent member of mankind - the cat-hater - can see.
If one could translate into speech what they meow it would surely sound like so : ' brains' , 'brains' , 'brains'...ehem, I mean : 'mine', 'mine', 'mine', 'mine', 'mine' a million times over.
Determination and lack of a self-preservation instinct (good qualities in any wannabe zombie) are all aparent when they climb over owner, try to steal the precious slices in her very face, groan and moan asking for their birthday present and are not distrated by anything else.
How much I pity Mr. and Mrs. Cat knowing that it is someone else who swallows most of their favourite lean protein!
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