I arrived home from another hard day’s graft at work, put down my bags and proceeded to call in the cats for supper. Tinned wet food was on the menu for the furry critters this evening, so I expected them to come running up in their usual greedy fashion. However, strangely enough, only Olympus heeded my “Fooooodies!” bellow, and I proceeded to place the food in the two bowls before carrying it out and putting it down in the dining room for them to feast on at their leisure.
I headed off to our room to change, and was rather taken aback to find Achilles lying on the bed, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that I had just dished him some delicious fish/who-knows-what-is-in-those-cans and I though to myself, “Shame, boy must be feeling a little sick. He seems very lethargic tonight”.
Anyway, fast forward a bit, and Chantelle eventually arrives home after her late shift, and sets about getting our late evening supper on the go. I’m sitting comfortably on the couch, taking in some of The Smoking Gun’s World’s Dumbest Criminals, when all of a sudden I hear coming out from over the kitchen counter:
“Jou bliksem!!! The cat stole one of the chicken breasts that I was defrosting!”
And thus the mystery of the lethargic Achilles was solved.
