I half saw a mouse running around my room as i was writing my paper. Not a overly rare occurrence in an old new England farm house in the late fall and winter.
Was I to take this sitting down? no my friends, for I have the ultimate weapon in the rodent war at my disposal.
Initially, the weapon was annoyed at being brought off standby (read: woken up at 1 in the morning and carried upstairs)he went back to sleep for about half an hour, but before too long, I was distracted from writing by a furious chase behind me
Grady 1, Rodents 0
If he could understand the concept of tommy points, I would lavish him with them. My cat's the man.
The hunter is mightily confused about where the mouse is now though. he has no concept of "tossed outside" as a live in cat. I like to imagine he thinks the front door is a portal to some alternate dimension, and the mouse got tossed into some sort of purgatory.
And yes, this is the most exciting thing that's happened to me all weekend. stupid law school paper.
TP, lol!
My cat Cosby is an outdoor cat, (as he was stray and adopted
me, as it were), and he has the rather annoying habit of bringing the remains of his daily/nightly hunting exploits to the welcome mats at my front and back doors.
If it's a mouse, he generally leaves only the tail, if it's a bird, it's the wings and large feathers, if it's a chipmunk, he only eats the head, as I have come to the conclusion that chipmunks just plain taste bad for some reason.
On one memorable occasion, someone had come to visit, and upon entering told me that there was a nightcrawler, (large worm), on my welcome mat, (finding it an odd place to see a worm). Hearing this, we both went back out to the front door mat to investigate, and sure enough, there it was, squggling away. But something was a bit "off".
As I bent closer to look, I saw that there was some kind of small animal body parts there, and that the squiggling nightcrawler was not a worm, but rather the intestine of some poor hapless victim of Cosby's, still moving, (as it had been freshly killed).
No sooner had I discovered this, when Cosby came around the corner of the house, sat down beside (what was left of) his prize, and looked up at us with that "Aren't I just the best hunter in the world?" look on his face. He then went bounding into the house and began pigging out on his cat food.
Personally, (though I had planned on having lunch soon), it was a couple of hours before I could bring myself to eat again. I actually tried once to convert him to an "Indoor" cat, (for many reasons), but that was a very short-sighted choice on my part, as he begins destroying things if he can not get out to go on his "hunts".
So be it ... he is what he is and I live with it for purposes of his companionship, (and the act of fooling myself into thinking I'm actually
needed). So now I own those rubber, easy-clean-type welcome mats, check them before anyone is expected at the door, and de-worm my "little" black fuzzy 22-pound Master-of-the-World every 6 months or so, (the rather disgusting by-product of his regular ingesting of tiny outdoor creatures).
He's a feline, afterall, and bringing me the remnants of his conquests, is just his way of letting me know he's doing his part, and far more preferrable than being a slave to the clock, (we silly humans).
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