There I was, minding my own business, innocent as a newborn suckling pig…when suddenly my foot was voraciously attacked by a pack of marauding kittens. And me without my shoes on. Four of them, all intent on making the kill themselves.
One of them wrapped his paws around my foot, flopped over on his side, took a bite and held it, kicked with his rear paws a couple of times and looked up at me as if to say, “Ah, the wildebeest…let us show you how we bring them down on the savanna!”
For the next minute or so it was like a little kitten feeding frenzy, biting and clawing, backing off and hopping in sideways with arched backs and puffed up tails before pouncing again, rolling all over each other trying to get a better bite in.
Then momma cat came along and made some momma cat noises and it was over just as quickly as it began. Now they’re all laying in the hallway getting fed. It’ll be nap time after that but the little death machines will be back sooner or later.
Good thing I’m smart enough to always wear two pair o’socks when I got kittens in the house.