Bags with handles, and cats do not go together. Squeaky found this out the day she checked out a bag of dog cookies I'd brought home. The bag crinkled and my big girl took off down the hall, her new cape swinging side to side, flinging cookies against each wall as she went.
Martin also discovered the perils of plastic. I'm not sure where the bag came from, but I arrived in the living room, lunch in hand, just in time to witness the chaos unfold.
Starting out in front of me, Marty ran clockwise around the living room, loudly crinkling as he went. Those he ran past followed him, while those who heard him coming, ran ahead of him. The giant conga stampede of terrified felines, lept over furniture and headed in my direction. I felt the wind rush past me as they made a left into the dining room, taking out a tall hallogen lamp, which in turn, took out Betty's favourite pot pourri bowl before leaving a large dent in the wall.
Something else to fix....
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