After an explosion of body fluids similar to that of Hurricane Dorian, Mr C had to be content with a miniature supper. Antibiotic reaction, we need to go easy on the snacks.
Natch he nicked a pizza crust out of the bin. I didn't have the heart to take it off him, thank the Lord he hasn't eaten it. He just marched around with it in his jaws, looking important and pointedly neglected.
On me now, rumbly purring. There is a little bit of chicken waiting for the morning, it has to be said.