You go into the room where you saw the black cat go. It's now sleeping in the corner with one eye open. You walk to the middle of the room, questioning the realistic look of the cat. It almost looks plastic, but it's moving.

When you turn around again, it comes to your awareness that some kind of oil-tar has puddled by the enterence. It must have come there while you were studing the cat.

It was while you were looking at the tar, that you felt two sharp teeth punch your neck and pull you backwards and then forwards, falling into the black tar. The black tar that was only paint.