Kitty is not your average, normal house cat. She seems all sweet, cuddly and cute (which most of the time she is)…
… but she also has these instantaneous violent outbursts. She only allows certain people to stroke her for stroke-stroke-stroke and then that’s enough.
One of my “special” moments spent with Kitty nearly took a turn for the worst. She has a tendency to bring me gifts. Living gifts. Apparently its a gift of love. One specific day we were both totally caught off-guard by one of these living gifts she had forgotten in my room.
As we were spending time together, having our usual meow-meow-chit-chat, we both spotted a little gecko. This poor little guy looked at us for a split second and then made a dash. In that split second, we could both see the fear in its eyes.
Kitty and I looked at the gecko and looked at each other, in what seemed to be 3 minutes of looking back and forth but was probably only 3 seconds long.
We both ended up trying to catch the gecko. Kitty wanted it dead. I wanted it alive and save it from eternal doom and gloom.
We struggled for ages trying to find it under my bed. In the end, not one of us found it. The gecko was lucky to get away this time. Hopefully, for good.