"STUPID CAT!" Joe yelled, sitting up and throwing his slipper at the door. "Wha- ... what's going on?" Carol murmured sleepily. "Furball is out there in the hallway drinking gallons of water; it's making me nuts!" he explained, frustrated. "Furball is right here," Carol whispered, sitting up next to him, but pointing to the cat. "She's curled up down by my feet." They stared at each other for a moment, listening to sounds of seemingly endless lapping at the self-feeder, the hairs on the back of their necks standing up. Moving slowly and as silently as possible, they rose, walked to the bedroom door, and opened it. What was crouched at the feeder at the end of the hall was barely visible in the darkness of the hallway, but its eyes shone a deep red when it turned to look at them. Furball hissed and backed away.