Maybe Stevo is right

Maybe I need to take a contract out on my cats (Stevo knows a guy who'll do it for $10 - no questions asked).
The little bastards (OK, one's a bastard, the other one's a little bitch) finally realized there was a Christmas tree in the living room. A tree filled with all sorts of fun stuff to bat around.
But that ain't the half of it.
For Christmas, I got them this scratching post thing that's filled with catnip. They've pretty much ignored it.
And continue to attack everything else.
I also got them a bottle of Pounce "Shake-It-Up" moist cat treats.
Christmas morning, I broke them out.
And they completely snubbed them (although Indy had a good time batting hers around the living room until a dog ate it). I left the bottle under the tree.
Fast-forward to 2:30 a.m., when I hear one of the cats playing hockey with something. I finally had to get it.
A lid.
I figured, in my sleepy haze, it was off some spice container that I dropped.
It was purple.
It was the cap from the treats.
The cap had two fang marks in it; the bottle of treats was missing.
I found the bottle under the chair.
Three-fourths of the treats gone.
Yes, one of them managed to bite and unscrew a plastic cap on the treats and consume most of them.
Which did explain the runniness of their stools when I cleaned the box this morning.
And the monkey bumps across the kitchen.

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