You snooze you lose, buddy

The Man came THIS CLOSE to a bad end yesterday. During one of my routine patrols, I discovered an unattended sandwich. My finely honed senses immediately identified the central ingredient -- fowl.

The Man was clear across the room, well out of range. And so, by every law in the jungle, this baby was mine. I settled in to enjoy a well-earned repast of birdflesh.

Now, I am not Fabio. I don't honk down my meals like a demented aardvark. I have a refined palate, and I savor. I taste. I balance each bite with an appropriate sip of a complementary beverage.

And so, first, a small lick. Ah... salty, moist, tender. A nibble. Mmmm... it's been too long since I've enjoyed fowl. This is excellent. A little taste of the cheese... a bit sharp, it tends to overwhelm the subtleties of the meat. But no matter. The flesh is excellent. Oh... yes... by... god...

This is TURKEY. Ohhh... mother. I sink my teeth in for a substantial bite. The flesh tears easily, it is so tender. Mmmmmm... purrrrrrrrrr... (lick lick lick) purrrrrrrrrr...

And suddenly, the Man is upon me, bellowing unintelligible oaths, shoving me away from the kill--rather, the sandwich--stamping his feet and waving his arms like a lunatic. I stand my ground, swallow that last bite, and give the bastard a hiss that should clarify the situation to him in no uncertain terms.

But he's irrational, mindless, crazed... still flailing his arms and spitting invective. I activate the claws and give him a good look at the fangs. YOU DO NOT WANT TO USE THAT TONE WITH ME.

The coward goes for his squirt-ray-weapon in the next room. I have only a moment to consider... can I get that whole sandwich in my mouth and make it to the escape hatch before he brings his dastardly weapon to bear? I've seen the Rodent try it, with only mixed (and messy) success. But I can still taste that meat and it is calling me back...

My faculties take hold, and alas, my lust for fowl cannot defeat my battle-proven instinct to not turn my back on an armed enemy. I swing around, holding my ground and maintaining a perfect defensive posture, but make no further move to capture the prize. The man returns, and for a moment there is a standoff. But he wisely lowers his weapon, and moves carefully around my Circle Of Death to insinuate himself between me and the bird.

You win this round, my friend, but I know where you sleep...