The Tweedles Have Eaten a Coke Box
Tweedledee and Tweedledumb (two cats) have eaten a Coke box. Seriously.
Last night I finished the last Coke in a 24-pack and, being the resident slave-to-the-felines that I am, I threw the empty box on the floor for them to play with.
This morning, no box.
I don’t mean “shredded box scattered throughout the house” or “box flattened to a pancake by repeated rompings.” I mean no box. Anywhere.
I searched the house. I searched the garage (is it possible for two kittens to drag a 24-pack box through a kitty door?). I searched under beds, under couches, under chairs, and in the potted plants (don’t ask).
I even searched the recycling to see if I had imagined the whole thing and actually thrown the box away.
Nope.
I did find two brown paper bags under the love seat and a stash of kitty food under the sideboard. I even found a dollar bill in the washing machine.
But the box? Let’s just say I think the mob might want to hire these kittens because…. damn! Actually… could they have figured out how to tie the box to a block of concrete? I’ll go check the fish tank…