This is the after photo of Mr Fuzzypants and his paper bag.
His love of paper bags may have been tempered by an
experience he had today. You see, he met a bag that
fought back.
The girls came home from school today to find a
trail of trinkets sprinkled through the downstairs rooms.
Mr Fuzzypants was strangely absent as we walked in.
When Big E sat down at the computer, out rocketed this
ball of kitty fury and angst, trailing the above paper bag.
When we left the house, twenty minutes previous,
the bag had been on the dining room table.
Mr Fuzzypants apparently found the bag quite tempting,
and in his dalliances had tried to crawl through
the paper handles. Being that he is no longer as
slight as he once was, he became stuck.
Despite, or perhaps because, of his violent struggles
the handle had become quite lodged around his hips.
Happily, he doesn't seem to have suffered any serious
injury. But he did sing me a very sad song after I'd
freed his nether regions.
So, Mr Fuzzypants, have you learned a lesson about the
temperamental nature of paper bags?
No. I didn't think you had.