Killer Of All Things, Living Or Not

So, James has a new thing. Since we moved, he's trapped in the house again and thus has to hunt things he normally wouldn't have to hunt. Instead of bringing live animals into the house and then slaughtering them before my very eyes, he has to resort to other, less bloody (sometimes) options.

ie; hunting and then killing the exposed area of my back through the open slats of my chair. I'm not sure why this is a fun chase for him, except that he loves to be able to attack through things, and reaching through the chair to my now scratched-to-hell-back skin is like reaching his paws through jail bars and scratching the eyes out of a nearby inmate.

Or sometimes he'll stalk, carefully circle, then strike my hairbrush DEAD. Like, d. e. a. d., dead. I have about fifteen things out on my little bathroom stand, but he always goes for the hairbrush, as if it said something mean about his mother once and he's gonna keep killing it and walking around with it in his mouth like a gay tiger until he feels his mother has been revenged.

And then, there's the newest attack - the cereal stalk.

This is the worst because I can't eat breakfast in peace anymore. Now I have to deal with this.

First the hunter eyes his prey. Slowly, without the Raisin Bran noticing, he creeps up on it.

Then once he sees the Raisin Bran doesn't notice him, he'll get even closer. Just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Then - I couldn't get a picture of it, because I was too busy being drenched in milk and soggy cereal - James gets both of his paws up in the cereal bowl and splashes around in it until he feels it has been sufficiently clawed to death. Thus ruining my breakfast time once again.

Of course after he's done with all that, he gets a little thirsty and drinks the rest of my water.

Sometimes it takes me three tries before I can actually eat an entire breakfast.

I do not wanna know what he's going to do when I have waffles tomorrow.