Bit of back story...
I am very fond of cats and as such, own a cat. I also live on a main road which travels from one county to another and as such is very busy. 2 years ago I learned the hard way that the 2 things do not mix and my relatively new cat, Mizzi, was knocked down and killed.
My new cat has been a house cat for 2 years to the point where the concept of going outside absolutely terrifies him. You open any of the doors and he shoots upstairs and out of sight. If he needs to go out (to the vets, in his cat box) he usually tenses up and pisses himself (literally)
I am standing in my kitchen and I am quite aware that my cat is outside scratching the door and trying quite desperately to get into the house. I let him in, quite confused about the fact he was out there. He comes in and casually strolls into the house and up the stairs. I then watch as exactly 12 clones of him wander in and follow him up the stairs. This apparently does not phase me.
A few moments later, I hear a shriek from up the stairs. It is my fiancée. She then storms into the kitchen, looks me straight in the eye, as if I have gone completely mental. She then shouts, at the absolute top of her voice:
"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU JUST LET 12 FOXES INTO THE HOUSE!?"
I run up the stairs and find the 12 cats, (now quite obviously foxes) ripping my poor cat to shreds. I stroll back down the stairs, rather aloof to the whole situation and respond to the misses. "Fuck, I have no idea..."
Then I woke up...