Sarah and I changed the sheets on our bed yesterday. Winston, as usual, showed up to tackle the sheets, kill them, and generally make things as difficult as he could. We let him have some fun and get a few “takedowns” with the covers. He got my hand a couple times too.
Halfway through, his eyes glazed over as if he were in a trance, a look that reminds us that he is not and never will be domesticated. So, I decided to test his fierceness. I threw the sheet over him and snapped it back like a whip. He flinched, froze for an instant, and then sped out of the room.
Sarah went to check on him and came back laughing hysterically. “He went straight to the litter box and used it,” she said.