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

Before Sally unscrupulously stepped on the bottom line of Hannibal's stewed her, Sally was a little milk cat who even meowed carefully.

At that time, the frequency of sending Hannibal's suits to dry cleaners was not so high, Mrs. Smith was just a stranger with two faces, Will was still an adjunct professor of criminal psychology at the university, and Jack hadn't started coming to Hannibal yet. Eat at home.

In that damp jungle, wearing a transparent protective suit, Hannibal hunted down a lost lamb, took out his still beating heart, and made it his dinner tonight.

But what he brought back was not only his ingredients, but also a shivering little milk cat curled up in his arms.

The kitten's soft fur was stained with muddy forest stains and the lamb's blood from Hannibal.

The scorching smell filled the kitten's nose, its whole body was trembling uncontrollably, and a pair of timid blue eyes on its dirty little face stared fearfully at the hunter who seemed to have saved it.

He was disposing of the carcass of a lamb.

The wind in the dense forest is cold and lonely. The kitten can't remember when he appeared here or why he was here. When he opened his eyes, he saw the narrow sky in the dense forest, and the cold soil and leaves under him.

It appears to have been abandoned by its mother.

Abandoned a kitten in the cold woods.

The kitten breathed the hunting breath of Hannibal, and while trembling with fear, drew warmth from Hannibal's body.

The kitten is too cold, and the kitten that has not been weaned is only the size of a palm, curled up in a ball in the hand, and it seems that a pinch can take its life away.

It was shrunk in Hannibal's pocket, only half of the dirty cat's head was exposed, and the wet, soft and young cat's eyes looked at the outside world through the protective suit, and tried to raise his head to look at Hannibal.

But the hunter who saved it never gave it any extra attention except for the first glance. He was always serious when completing his work.

But through the clothes, the kitten's weak body temperature and uncontrollable trembling clearly conveyed to Hannibal's senses.

"Meow meow……"

Fragile and weak meows sounded in the deserted dense forest.

It was cold and it looked like it was going to rain.

Hannibal finished the follow-up work. He took off his protective clothing in a hidden place, and when he lowered his head, he saw the kitten's tender blue eyes looking at him timidly.

It let out a small, almost breath-like cry, and the white hot air faintly fainted from its small mouth. The cubs in winter could easily die in the deserted woods.

It knows the danger of the hunter and still tries hard to find the possibility of survival in him.

The survival instinct is really strong.

Hannibal pinched the kitten's small, thin ears, and the fine fluff ran over his fingertips, and the touch was unexpectedly good.

The kitten obediently accepted the hunter's touch, its fluff trembling slightly in the air, and when it crawled into Hannibal's hand, it couldn't move anymore. It didn't know whether this not-kind hunter would Will pity a kitten whose breed is unknown, but Hannibal is the only person he meets on the wet soil who will reach out to him.

Even if that hand had just dug out a scarlet heart, it exuded a dark and dangerous atmosphere.

But it was also the hand that put the kitten into his pocket and brought it back to its warm home.

But Hannibal’s house didn’t have anything for cats. On the first night at home, it slept in one of Hannibal’s clothes, and the room was heated. Hannibal put it on the sofa to spend the night. A night of panic and hunger.

The next day, Hannibal made cat food for the kitten. At that time, Hannibal did not have a recipe for cats. The cat food was simply boiled chicken breast, but the kitten just licked it, as if it didn’t know what to eat. Lying on the side of the plate, meowing helplessly and bewilderedly.

The kitten has not been weaned, and it does not know how to eat cat food.

It even walked unsteadily, and the little white dumpling staggered at Hannibal's heels, as if to please, but also seemed to be afraid that Hannibal would throw it away.

But it was too small, it couldn't walk stably, and it often fell, falling on Hannibal's leather shoes, rolling over and over, dizzy.

But unexpectedly, compared with humans, Hannibal's patience and tolerance for animals is very impressive.

Hannibal did not abandon the kitten. He ordered goat milk from a farm for a month. He bathed the kitten, revealing its soft and fluffy white fur.

"Sally."

The kitten poked its head out from under the brown blanket, but Hannibal turned his back to it, flipping through the books on the shelf.

It seems that the name I saw occasionally while reading a book, the kitten has been called Sally since then.

Keeping cats seems to have become Hannibal's daily academic research.

He always looked at Sally coldly and strangely.

But owning a cat is addictive. When he reached out to Sally in the dense forest, the famous psychiatrist was inseparable from the cat-loving family.

When receiving a patient in the timber business in Hannibal, he asked what kind of timber is suitable for cat climbing frames.

When Sally got the first gift from the shit-shoveling officer in the cat's life, Mao Tuanzi's character and temper, which was well-behaved and pitiful at first, also grew in an unpredictable direction.

When Hannibal opened the closet one day, he found that the clothes were covered with white fur, and a certain little white cat was sleeping soundly in the pocket of his suit, with its pink and tender paws exposed, and its posture was quite bold.

Cats are quite small animals. When the kitten no longer trembles nervously because of Hannibal's touch, Sally is gradually getting familiar with everything about Hannibal, his smell, his sight, and his touch.

Similarly, cats are also good at observing and probing. It always nests in the blanket to observe everything about Hannibal.

His behavior, his diet, his character, his hobbies, his friends.

and his disgusting hobbies.

The nature of small animals made Sally hate hunters, and Hannibal always had a hunting aura that made the cat's nose itch.

Especially when his prey came back from the end, Sally always frowned, refused any touch from Hannibal, and subconsciously attacked Hannibal.

This was the first time Sally had a temper.

Two scratch marks appeared on the psychiatrist's neck.

Hannibal raised his hand to touch the wound, and there was a slight sting. For a moment, his expression was very strange, and his expression changed slightly, and an indescribable strangeness hit Sally.

The kitten immediately arched its back as if facing a formidable enemy.

The body trembled subconsciously, and the color of fear floated into the kitten's eyes.

The kitten thought the cruel hunter would kill it.

But he just grabbed Sally and cut its claws.

"Meow……"

Sally: This shit shoveler seems a bit masochistic?

Over time, as long as three years later.

Sally had no psychological burden for scratching Hannibal's neck, turned the shit-shoveling room into a mess, and went out with a $100 bill, feeling calm and guilt-free.

Habits are all habits.

So it was all Hannibal's fault.

The author has something to say: update chapter v tonight v●

Please look forward to it √ What did the cat sneak out hhhhh