Fit to be Seen.

Last night my beloved Drooke tried to kill me.

It's true!
I know she doesn't seem the type.
With all her purring and kneading.
The last ten years have been a ploy to lead me into a state of naive trust and affection.
Last night she showed her evil plans.
I will never sleep without a squirt gun under my pillow again.
And here, the heinous tale...
I was sleeping on my back with earplugs in, as a light sleeper with a nocturnal animal must do.
Unknown to me SHE had already begun to implement her plan. My death!
She snuck stealthily up my side and stood on my chest.

I guess she wanted one last look before I was in the morgue.
She quietly, lightly, laid down.
Pretending to be uncomfortable she rolled...
The furry, loose belly she has, since being "fixed", completely and effectively slid into my open mouth! I was being smothered by the very belly I had rubbed earlier!
I awoke gasping and spitting out fur...

Drooke claims (unconcerned, might I add) it was an accidental event.
Har-umph! Sure!
:)