And when I die, my cats will eat me.

I know I often joke that I'm a total cat lady. But, like, I'm not kidding. I've reached entire new levels of cat lady. If I'm not cleaning up cat shit, I'm cleaning up cat puke. Or vacuuming cat hair. Or cleaning a litter box. But last night was the ultimate. For real.

So, I get home after a long and blissful midnight showing of New Moon (zOMG ponies!!1!! SO GOOD), and I swiftly crawled into bed. Oh, bed. I love bed.

So, I'm in bed, right? And I hear Chicken jump on top of the covers. I always know it's Chicken because the sweet, little bell on her collar jingles with every step. Sweet Chicken. Love that cat, man. She crawls a little closer and a little closer, which is odd because Chicken isn't much of a people person. She's generally the last cat you'd see snuggled up to anyone.

But there she was, slowly approaching my pillow...

And then I feel it. She starts sniffing my head. A) Why are you sniffing my head? And B) Awwwwwwwwwwwww!

But then the sniffing gets a little more intense. Like, there's something REALLY good in there... Her pink nose burrows a little further into the folds of my hair at the back of my head, and I open my eyes.

And then it happens. SHE STARTS CHEWING. She actually BITES MY SCALP.






Don't tell anyone. How humiliating. If I ever vanish for an extended period of time, check my apartment, because you'll probably find my half-eaten corpse and two very naughty, very full cats.