--As long as I live I’ll never be able to figure out the power chicken bones have over cats.
--You can have a box of sleeping cats in your kitchen walk out with a plate of chicken bones and all of a sudden your surround by a pack of hungry little gremlins all wanting a piece of what ever it is your carrying.
--All trying desperately to make their case for why you should give it to them by walking back and forth in front of you.
--After years of trial and error I’ve learned to never look down while carrying a plate of bones, because there is something about the back and forth motion that gets me dizzy every time. And as a result I end up spilling the dang bones.
--So usually I try to just wand though as best till I can and make it to the icebox, where I can store the bones till morning. When they can be tossed in the garbage on the way out the door to the can.
--The cats of course remember the bones are there and will spend the rest of the night plotting on how to break in.
--Every once in a while you’ll hear a crash, from the kitchen and have to get up and go look only to find a bunch of cats making a be line back to their box.
--My wife of course thinks it would probably be easier to give the dang cats the bones. And just clean up the mess in the morning. But as I so very quietly like to point out of course you do your not the one who find them in his boots when their through with them…..
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