A few minutes ago, while I was happily reading the news online, the hubby shouted down the stairs advising that “you better get up here quick”. He should have known better. On any Sunday that follows a night of copious amounts of red wine being drunk, I don’t move anywhere quickly.

Somehow while she was playing with a plastic grocery bag in the kitchen, Thanatos managed to get her body, head and front leg stuck through the handles. Her back legs were stuck in the main section of the bag. After a bit of wiggling about, she discovered herself stuck and immediately started wailing for help.

The hubby came rushing down the stairs with a squealing cat in his arms. Dumping her unceremoniously in my lap, he says “you deal with it”. It was a smart move on his part. Laying her head on my arm, she immediately stopped howling and squirming. Purring loudly, she patiently waited for me to extract her from the bag. A few ripped handles later and she was wiggling her way out of the bag.

Rescued, she stayed on my lap long enough to get a belly rub and some scratches behind the ears. Then, she toddled off back to rule her domain; the kitchen.

Famous last words: “Damn! We should have taken a picture of that before rescuing her.”

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