cat guard
i'm eating a rather savory leftover chicken breast for dinner when the telephone rings. i leave my plate on the kitchen counter, stroll across the room to answer it. such a move is not recommended when you live with a pair of fuzzy black bandits lurking under the bed. sure enough, as my back is turned the thieves move in for the heist - they streak into the kitchen, leap onto the counter, headed straight for the plate. but i am unconcerned. for it is here that they are foiled by a timeless, tried-and-true enemy. Tabasco sauce.