I was in my playroom. It was sunny out, the room full of a natural sort of warmth the sun typically gives. I was playing with two toys that I typically neglected, Furbies. Because of my empathy, I assumed the toys felt lonely. It was the first time I had played with them in a few years, the first time I had played with them since we had gotten my cat, Freya. I was laying on the colorful rainbow rug on my stomach, rather comfortable. Freya walked into the room and started watching me. I considered her a protector, so I thought nothing of it. She started to bat at me with her claws, and it begun to freak me out as I hated being hurt. I sit up while the Furbies ramble. She backs away and I start to feel calm again, but when I turn to play with them some more, she screeches loudly and begins to latch onto my back with claws. It's awfully painful and sends me into hysteria. My parents come in and have to pry her off me, leaving huge claw marks down my back. I never figured out why she did it.