Flying Nuns

Two days ago I was standing at the stove popping some popcorn. It was around 4:00pm. 5pm is when Lucy's official dinnertime is, but she likes to start announcing that it's time to eat around 2pm. It's a wonderful 3 hours full of destruction and protest until there is food in her bowl.
Anyway, she was throwing her usual fit, meowing up a storm. Of course, as usual, I was ignoring her. I heard the usual clatter of items being knocked off shelves from the living room in protest. Then, there was silence. Suddenly I heard a loud knock on the floor and looked to my left. In the doorway of the dining room, I saw a small ceramic trio of snow village nuns fly across the doorway, across the wood floor. There was only one culprit behind it, and sure enough when I went into the living room, Lucy was sitting up on the shelf with all of my mom's dept 56 snow village. Cat-zilla I like to call her. She enjoys walking through and knocking down the towns people, trees, and anything else standing. To no surprise what-so-ever, in addition to the nuns, a snowmobiler, a snow man, two trees, and some other innocent ceramic bystander had been knocked to the floor. This time there was a casualty. The snowmobiler's body had detached from his snowmobile, and his head had detached from the rest of his body.

About 20 minutes later I was sitting in the living room eating my newly popped popcorn, and watching a video on my laptop. I still hadn't fed Lucy. As usual, she wasn't going to let me forget that either. Cat-zilla was back at it in the snow village. Everytime she would knock something to the floor she'd quick look up at me to see if I had seen. When I would continue to ignore her, she would walk to the the next closest standing object and knock that to the floor, repeating the quick glance up to see if I had noticed. Once all that had been standing in the snow village was no more, she moved on to the lamp table and proceeded to knock off a picture frame and ceramic coaster. Again, I still ignored. Once she started to move towards the more expensive items, I got up and fed her.

On the way to the laundry room where we keep her food, she announced the entire way how deathly starving she was, and that her stomach was indeed turning inside out. No remorse for the now headless, snowmobile-less man, or for the fallen nuns.