Now this was a real mystery. Early one morning I stepped out to find this, right in the middle of my doorstep.
The Most Perfect Cat Toy Ever.
I dreaded to touch it, though. I was afraid it was a dead baby chicken.
It wasn’t. It was just what it looked like: A perfectly intact swirl of feathers, attached I don’t know how.
I brought it inside. Of course I did. What would you do? I thought so. OK, now we’ve got that cleared up.
What is that, bro?
If I groom you, will you let me play with it?
I offer you the Paw of Doom. Take that, Weird FeatherBall.
Ma? Why is he like that to me? I was only born to love and be loved . . . .
I don’t know, dearest Barnes. He is — The Bugs. That is all.
I vant to be alone with MY Weird FeatherBall. Mine. I relocate to Base Camp.
:: SWAT!! ::
:: FLIP!! ::
:: DEADLY BUNNY-KICK!! ::
Is that Barney I hear coming? Out, Barney, OUT!!
:: CHOMP!! ::
I am The Bugs. Before me, there is no other.
The only thing is . . . immediately after I took that last snap . . . the Weird FeatherBall completely vanished.
Both Bugs and I — Bugs mewing inquisitively (I not mewing, no, not even a little bit) — together we searched Base Camp from top to bottom. I even broke out the flashlight. Nope. We could find not the slightest trace of Ye Weird FeatherBall. No, none. Nevermore.
Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.