I have an insane cat

Tolstoy is my cat. I love him to death, but he’s insane. There was a cartoon strip many years ago called Krazy Kat. in Tolstoy’s case, that fits.

This morning, I heard this thrashing around outside the kitchen Tolstoy tore through the room leaving a jet trail behind him. He looked as though he was about to take off from McGuire Air Force Base. Why?

He had a supermarket plastic bag over his head. No, he was not in danger. He would not suffocate. He just didn’t like it very much. So he kept running around trying lose the damn thing. It stopped being funny and got a bit scary. I was afraid the cat might hurt himself. So I bent over to him and he slid out out of the market bag. Then he want and hid under the bed for an hour. All I saw of him was his tail flapping around. He was clearly scared out of his gourd.

After an hour of this, he came out and walked around the house, ate, the resumed his cat-life. It was amazingly funny until I realized this was my cat, and he was probably scared shitless. Poor doofus kitty….


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