Cats would make terrible assassins
Matthew Ryan Fischer
It was not uncommon to come home to find some level of disarray – a
spilled bowl of cat food, or a magazine on the floor, or perhaps the flower pot
turned over. Less common, but still common enough, I might walk through the
door and find my cat staring, waiting. Rare to non-existent would be the
category of having my pet looking me in the eyes, bags packed, ready to tell me
how she had a new job and was leaving.
Who would train their cat to be a killer and why? They had to know
that this would pretty much backfire, right? Such a fickle creature, how could
they be trusted to complete such a delicate task?
I was polite and asked very delicately for additional details. My cat
did not listen. Fearing for my life, I was in no position to stop her.
Where did she go? Is she out there killing people now, as we
speak, and would I ever see her again? And if I did, would she be on my side or
at a distance, sight aimed to strike?
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