During Monday night’s football game at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, sports were interrupted by a black cat who stopped the clock, cleared the field, and ran as if Satan herself was on her tail.
The incident occurred somewhere around the end of the second quarter, during which I assume one team (the New York Giants, somehow) was winning and another (the Dallas Cowboys) was losing. The game stopped so that the cat could do what cats do when suddenly thrust into the national spotlight, which is show the fuck out.
I do not profess to be a football expert, but I can say with confidence that I am an expert in cats. This is a nice black cat, puffy through the bod, thick in the tail, and with a face that skews almost human.
Imagine the cat in pads and a helmet, reaching its front paws skyward to receive the ball from the man who replaced Eli Manning, the younger brother of that guy in the insurance commercials. It bobs, it weaves, it dives, it zooms, running much like a cat who just scarfed a bowl of kibble. Perhaps after this cat evaded capture, and darted off into one of the tunnels from which the sportsmen emerge, it found a quiet corner somewhere in the vast litter box that is the parking lot at MetLife, took a giant, satisfying, BM, and found peace on a radiator somewhere nice and quiet.
Good cat. Play ball.