I was going through my morning routine, preparing my lunch that I will inevitably eat on my way to work, so I can take a nap at lunch, then a quick stop in the office to get my various handheld electronics attached to the tangle of dongles that take up residence on my desk. I emerged from the office excited to listen to the new Masters of None podcast when a scene of absolute horror presented itself to me. My sandwich was missing! Images of Homer Simpson frantically searching for a missing piece of bacon filled my mind as I quickly scanned the kitchen for my food. The sandwich had been knocked off the table and unwrapped during its tumble, resting in a heap of disjointed ingredients on the chair. The Pink Cat was under the chair in an odd position as if trying to hid something giving me a look that seem to say: “What? Everything is fine here, move along.” I swear she shifted her body to hide something and I may have seen a flash of her talons as I approached the suspect.
With gentle hands and a tear in my eye, I picked up the remains of my breakfast and attempted to reconstruct the piece of art that I had created just moments ago. That’s when I noticed that there was a piece missing. Upon further inspection of The Pink Cat, she was protecting a large piece of ham that had ‘fallen’ out my masterpiece as it tumbled to the chair. As I bent to pick up the stray piece, she quickly bit off a piece and attempted to sit on the errant slice as if to say: “Mine! I found this fair and square! It’s not my fault that you wrapped it snuggly in a napkin and placed it in the center of the table. It must have been a gust of wind that swept up the delicious package and tossed it off the table. Not my problem.”