This is Barney.
That was Barney in his new favorite spot, which is by the space heater I have in my office to keep my feet warm. I am always stepping on Barney or, every now and again, (BY ACCIDENT, PEOPLE) rolling over parts of him with my chair.
I should have known something was amiss when I heard unrecognizable sounds coming from the general direction of the kitchen and Barney wasn't underneath my feet. But I was on a writing roll and decided to ignore them.
Until I got up to make my lunch and to check on the status of the eggs/butter I'd put on the counter to get to room temp before making a lemon pound cake.
The quicker reader will know where this is going.
On the kitchen floor was an egg, neatly (almost surgically) broken in half. Rather, there was just the egg shell. All traces of any actual egg were gone. As was Barney, who spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping off the eggy goodness in an undisclosed location.
He is a very strange cat.