Literary cat is obnoxious

With Fred gone, I use his half of the bed as a storage area of sorts. It's good for holding stacks of laundry, the TV remotes, perhaps an empty popcorn bowl, and of course a book. Last night when I was ready to go to sleep, I set my current read face-down on Fred's side of the bed and drifted off. Sometime in the middle of the night I was awakened by the sound of Eddie viciously attacking my book. I swatted him away and went back to sleep and thought nothing more of it until tonight, when I picked up the book to continue reading:



I'm glad that was my book and not my face. We didn't name him after Edward Scissorhands, but perhaps we should have.