one of my cats wins, and the other one fails. guess which is which.

so last week there was a fly in the house. Irving, master of all prey that is aerial, wigged out with joy. he watched it forever, and then there was one strategically calculated leap and he smacked it with his paw and it fell down dead. then, like a good little pest-control device, he ate it.

so I've seen 3 medium-sized roaches in my apartment in the last 24 hours (and yes, there's a WHOLE other topic of conversation, which will probably make me flail and cuss out my building management a little). Irving killed one of them, I squished the other.

Seeley was nosing around at something. I was all, watcha got? turned out he got a cockroach. so I'm all, kill it, seeley. and he looks up at me with this...blatant look of disbelief. at this point the cockroach *runs across Seeley's foot*.

Seeley yanks his paw away and watches it run off, bewildered.

*facepalm*

I don't know what I expect from him. dude can't even wash his own ass.