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

The wound on the neck is always reminiscent of an ambiguous plot.

In particular, Dr. Hannibal Lecter is a rich, handsome and charming bachelor. Perhaps because of his occupation, his language style is always meticulous and earnest, and his mature thinking and stability give people a great sense of security, so that many people misunderstand him. and thinks he has an overly perky girlfriend.

But Hannibal didn't have a girlfriend, and there wasn't even a sign of a woman spending the night in his house.

In addition to the meticulous decoration style and the well-organized and dazzling arrangement, only on the sofa, in the bedroom, on the carpet, squatting down and looking carefully, can pick up a pile of soft and delicate cat fur.

Sally sheds enough hair to make a plush doll five centimeters tall.

In fact, Hannibal was rather bored collecting cat hair, because he had a patient who said she was good at making wool felt.

There should be no difference between wool and cat fur.

But sheep and cats are different.

The former is food, the latter is pets.

Sheep would never scar Hannibal, but cats could, and were very willful and ruthless, merciless.

"Sally, it's time to cut your claws."

Hannibal applied ointment for the wound on his neck, rolled up his shirt sleeves, walked into Sally's room, and scooped it up while she was drowsy.

Sally's pads are soft pink, like soft cotton candy among the snow-white fluff. She is lying on Hannibal's lap, with her paws curled up on her chest, sleeping soundly, and the kitten's breathing is very loud. shallow.

Hannibal had a whole set of claw-cutting tools, and he didn't have as many claw-cutting tools when handling prey as Sally.

After clipping the claws, the fur needs to be clipped.

The excess fluff growing between the meat pads needs to be trimmed, otherwise it will cause skin diseases after a long time.

Sally still didn't wake up.

Hannibal checked the time, stuffed Sally back into the den, and collected the fluff that had been cut.

In a few months, maybe I'll be able to make another wool felt.

Sally in the small nest had no idea that her weapon was cut off mercilessly by the hateful shit shovel in her sleep. It turned over, its soft cat ears were pressed under the small head, and its front paws subconsciously hugged the small nest. Doll, a five-centimeter cat wool felt exactly like Sally.

"Meow!!! Meow meow meow!!!!!!!!!!!!"

When Sally discovered Hannibal's evil deeds, it was already late at night. Cats always wake up in the middle of the night, and Sally also has the habit of waking up late at night to play.

But it found that its claws were gone! !

Shit shovel!I'm going to scratch you to death! ! !

But Hannibal seemed to have seen through Sally, and closed the door presciently, letting the kitten's bare paws scratch and pull the door, making small and somewhat funny rubbing sounds.

Sally meowed ferociously several times, as if she felt that her barking was as intimidating as a wolf, but the door remained motionless.

The wayward Sally wanted to run away from home again. It missed Will and the dried fish, and Hannibal never gave Sally a dried fish.

To be precise, Hannibal never gave Sally snacks or canned food with an expiration date.

Sally's food was always freshly prepared by Hannibal.

This is the only advantage that Sally thinks of her shit shoveler, he is a very good cook.

Sally licked her bare paw silently, then turned around and ran towards the window.

But all locked.

So the whole night, the sound at the door of Hannibal's room kept ringing.

Feel weird?

Not surprising, not at all.

Every shit shovel has a set of plans to deal with the master.

This is the difference between owning a dog and owning a cat.

Hannibal doesn't like people or pets who come to him at his beck and call, and the fun is proper struggle and resistance.

Especially Sally is a very cute kitten.

Although it doesn't seem to like Hannibal.

But is that weird?

It's not surprising, not every shit-shoveling officer is deeply loved by the master, and it's normal to be scratched all over the face.

(Other shit shovelers: Please don’t represent us casually, my cat is very good, thank you)

The next day, a guest from the FBI was welcomed at home. When Sally recovered from the grief of losing her sharp claws, she smelled the smell of fried hair all over her body and the conversation between two people at the dining table.

"This smells delicious,"

"Sacmonromont pancreas and liver frittata."

Hannibal put the plate on the table. On the plate was a meal of well-cooked liver, exuding a tempting aroma.

Jack expressed his admiration for the dish, cut a piece with a knife and fork and was about to taste it, when a little white cat jumped onto the dining table, staring at him quietly with its glazed blue cat eyes.

Jack was taken aback, "It doesn't seem to be in a good mood?"

"No, Sally is a good girl."

Every shit shoveler thinks his cat is a good boy, but he has a point in his heart whether they are good or not.

Hannibal hugged Sally, and gently stroked her back with his big hand to comfort her, "Maybe it's because I forgot to prepare dinner for her."

It wasn't the first time Jack saw Sally, he joked: "It's my fault."

"You're a very good guest, Jack, and Sally will understand."

Hannibal came to the kitchen with Sally in his arms. He squatted down and opened the small refrigerator next to the big refrigerator, and the cold air overflowed on Sally's hair.

"Veal croquettes, or salmon salad?"

Jack watched at the dinner table amusedly as Dr. Lecter asked about Sally's taste like a real child.

Anyone who is a little familiar with Hannibal will know that Dr. Hannibal has a kitten named Sally. It is said that he was rescued from a slaughterhouse three years ago. At that time, the kitten was very dirty. But it is not as beautiful as it is now, and the weak and petite one can only lie in Hannibal's palm.

Dr. Hannibal is really kind.

Jack's bad mood because of the case was a little relieved, he put the pancreas and liver into his mouth, and couldn't help nodding.

"It was delicious."

Sally withdrew her gaze from the dining table, and refocused on its dinner. It was hungry, very hungry, and when it was full, it would argue with Hannibal about Paw's old score.

Sally was thinking about what to eat tonight, but her sense of smell was full of the smell of hunting, she was a little dizzy, and Hannibal's low whispers came from her ears.

"He won't know, Sally."

The author has something to say: Sally: Congratulations, you have been added to the luxury hunting package by my shit-shoveling officer.

small theater--

"Ms. Evans, I have a small request."

Evans, who was finishing a course of psychological counseling, nodded with ease.

Then I watched Dr. Lecter take out a pack of cat hair and a picture of a cat from the office drawer.

"You said you were good at wool felt?"

Ms. Evans: "..."