Shit shovel officer and his cat [Comprehensive British and American]

A cat is an animal that is used to pushing forward.

Of course, the same goes for dogs.

Pets that have been taken care of throughout the ages will always develop some bad habits.

And these bad habits are usually developed when they were just taken home by their owners when they were young.

They leave a nest of brothers and sisters, a warm mother's body, and come to an unfamiliar environment. They will express their fear and anxiety by barking.

Imagine a cat or a dog, small and soft, a palm-sized blob with fine, unshaven lanugo.

They have short limbs, they hold your hand, the pink pads press your palm, they open their mouths to reveal small white deciduous teeth, and they make small milk sounds one after another.

It sounds very pitiful.

ignore?indifferent?

Impossible, any qualified excrement shoveler and dog owner can't resist the cutie's juvenile killer move.

The more they cry, the more you can't leave.

Over time, it becomes a habit of losing your temper casually.

The correct way to treat small pets when they are just received home, within a week, in addition to normal care, do not give them too much attention and caress. To raise an ancestor, you can only set the family rules first, so that you can live a few more years.

But everyone understands the truth, but few really do it.

By the time Hannibal read the relevant information while holding the pet raising guide, it was already too late.

Sally's bad temper grew day by day.

No one would have imagined that Sally was just a little cutie who could meow and cry very weakly when she was a child, and was picked up by Hannibal in the wild. body temperature.

It was winter, the coldest season.

The kitten's body is covered with a layer of soft lanugo. It has not yet reached the age of moulting, and it has not even reached the age of weaning.

If Hannibal abandons it, it can only die in a bad sewer, or a dessert in the mouth of some hound.

No one of Hannibal's friends knew how the cat got here. It seemed that one day he suddenly found a copy of "Cat Behavior" with the footer rolled up on Dr. Hannibal's desk.

Inquiring curiously, I learned another version about the encounter between Hannibal and Sally.

A kind doctor saved a poor kitten from a bloody butcher.

Well, poor kitten.

As the night gets darker and darker, the busiest street market also falls into silence.

There was a sudden screeching sound in the apartment.

"Meow!!!!!!"

The sound of claws scratching and pulling the door made one feel dizzy, and Sally landed on her hind feet, her two front paws frantically scratching at the basement door.

Shit shovel!Shit shovel! !

"Meow! Meow!!"

The white claws were so fast that only afterimages were left, Sally's stomach was growling, the kitten was howling, the cat's mouth was wide open, and it was hoarse.

The door opened suddenly, and there was a strange smell of disinfectant from inside, as if mixed with other smells.

Sally sat on the floor, raised her paw and pushed Hannibal's calf.

Shit shovel, your cat is hungry.

Hannibal knelt down and wanted to touch Sally's head, but Sally avoided him in disgust.

Hannibal didn't wash his hands.

Hannibal walked out of the basement and walked towards the kitchen. He put the food on the cutting board, brushed the knives one by one with his clean and elegant hands, and finally chose a bone to remove the meat.

Sally blinked her cat's eyes, her face was full of displeasure, and she walked slowly to Hannibal's feet.

It looked up, and could only see the black trouser legs of the excrement shovel officer, and the steady and strong arm, holding the kitchen knife.

One by one, he picked out the small bones and threw them into the trash can.

Sally's eyes followed that arc back and forth.

"Meow!!"

Sally pushed Hannibal's leg.

"Be good, Sally."

Sally lowered her paws and scowled.

Oh shit shoveler, say it again if you have the ability.

Another small bone fell into the trash can. The white bone was bloodshot, fresh and attractive, and Winston would whet his appetite when he saw it.

Sally was very fussy when she was hungry, and Hannibal was well aware of Sally's temper, but sometimes he didn't do what Sally wanted.

It can only be said that Hannibal is a very courageous shit shovel officer. I hope he can still stick to his style when he is scratched by a kitten.

"Meow~"

Sally grabbed Hannibal's trouser legs aggrievedly and shook them, but there was no response, and her aggrieved little face was replaced by fried hair.

The kitten's paws grabbed the trouser legs and climbed onto Hannibal's body with its strength. The expensive shirt was immediately scratched by the cat's paws with three scratches that could not be ignored.

Hannibal stopped his meat-cutting hand, and grabbed the cat flopping around him with his backhand, but it was so flexible that Hannibal only grabbed the cat's fur with one hand.

"Sally."

Hannibal shouted in a deep voice, with danger in his tone.

The kitten slapped Hannibal's head directly with its tail. It may have sharpened Sally's claws from the battle with Winston. There was a faint red mark on the back of Hannibal's neck. The kitten circled In the hollow of Hannibal's shoulder, bared his small white teeth, "Meow—"

It was a threatening meow.

The kitten's paw pressed against Hannibal's neck, as if as long as Hannibal didn't cook for it, it would directly prevent Hannibal from going to work tomorrow.

The blood on the chopping board spilled onto the cooking table, and the thick liquid exuded an unpleasant fishy smell.

This is a very beautiful tenderloin, like a fluttering butterfly.

The kitten's breath was like a butterfly's wings fluttering and spraying on Hannibal's ear, which was slightly warm.

Hannibal stroked the handle of the kitchen knife, then suddenly put the knife aside.

He rolled up his sleeves and pressed the blood on the flesh with both hands.

"3 minutes."

Sally gurgled incessantly in her throat, but the paw on Hannibal's neck was much lighter.

Sally could feel the strength of Hannibal's shoulders and back, and his hands were as familiar and steady as an artist's carving work, and then cut into cubes, put them on a plate, and put them in the refrigerator.

At this moment, Hannibal glanced at Sally, the kitchen lighting was dim, without any warm color, the kitten looked up at the cat's head, and when the excrement shoveler looked at it, it seemed to "meow" as a reminder.

"hungry?"

A man in a blue shirt, with his sleeves rolled up, washes his hands.

Sally continued to nest on Hannibal's shoulder, retracting her claws.

"Fish Ball?"

"Meow~"

"Pork liver?"

"Meow~"

"Shrimp balls?"

"Meow~~"

Very good, shrimp balls.

Maybe crack an egg and add some vegetables.

Hannibal started to make cat food for Sally, and the kitten sat and waited for the feeding.

Sally the cat is very hungry, so she doesn't care about other things with the poop shovel for the time being.

The little tail swept across Hannibal's back, licking his paws from time to time.

Hannibal is like a good-tempered gentleman, and he doesn't care about his cat's bad temper. He is wearing the shirt with three scratches from Sally, and the delicious cat food is freshly cooked from his hands.

Sally licked her nose, the cat's eyes were shining, it jumped off Hannibal's shoulder, ran to the table, and waited for the cat's meal in its usual seat.

It met Hannibal's gaze with unprecedented enthusiasm and anticipation.

However, Hannibal did not serve the cat meal to the dining table, but put it in a round insulated box with a smart lock, and set the time for half an hour.

There was a slight tingling sensation on the back of his neck, Hannibal's expression was unclear, under the dim light, his wise and introverted eyes suppressed a strange pleasure, the blood of his prey remained on his hands, and the temperature changed from warm to cold .

It's quite a wonderful feeling.

Sally shouldn't be making trouble with him at this time.

Hannibal tapped on the insulation box, "This is punishment, Sally."

After finishing speaking, he went back to the bedroom to change clothes, and closed the door very presciently.

In less than 2 minutes, Sally's heart-piercing howl came from outside the door. The door seemed to be besieged by zombies, and the piercing sound of scratching the door was rapid and angry.

The kitten's paws were flapping on the door, no doubt it would have scratched Hannibal's face if the door had been left open.

Damn shit shovel! ! !

Cheapskate! ! ! !

Your cat is running away from home! !

The author has something to say: Maybe Sally will never know that Hannibal is actually, really not a cheapskate hhhhhhhh