Carnivores, eh?

Some days i really wonder just how much English the cats understand... today, the phrase "i'm baking fresh bread" motivated an indecisive Winston to suddenly leap up off the porch step and dash inside. 

Winnie (on the bottom of the tabby stack, there) is an abject carb slut, and cannot be left unattended around bread, flour, potato chips, or anything vaguely pastry-like.  He will rip through any packaging - the bread i bake is now kept in a hefty plastic loaf keeper, inside a cabinet with a strong magnetic latch.  So far, it's kept him out, but i worry...