Bad Kitty

I love my cat, but it cannot comprehend that I don't feel the same way about dead and dying rats as it does. Yesterday, during dinner, he brought us a deceased one I immediately threw off the deck. While I know this is a sign of his respect for me, I wanted to teach him that dead mice are unappreciated. He's a slow learner, and tonight, at my door specifically, he meowed, and when I let him in he deposited another dead rat. I carried it out and left it on the corner of the deck. After confusedly sniffing the spot where he'd deposited the carcass, he wanted to go out again. I figured he wanted to desecrate the furry little corpse a bit more, so let him out. Five minutes later, I hear him whining to be let in.

I raise the blinds to check this time and, sure enough, he's got something in his mouth. Only this something's moving a bit. Apparently he's concluded I rejected previous mice because they were already deceased. I get dressed in a robe, grab hand towels and prepare to escort the tiny mammal to the ground, where he may heal or die. The mouse gathers it's strength and, on it's gimpy, injured leg, scrambles away. I follow it a bit and just, when I think the mouse may be safe, it suicidally runs between the posts of the deck's fenced sides.

The drop is at least seven feet, but I hear a skittering down their that suggests the mouse has miraculously survived and run homewards. Amazing Aerodynamic Mouse! It's then I notice a little half of a mouse closer to my door, sever neatly, trailing a small pale stomach hanging on by the intestine, having already dropped out a dark little kidney. I use the towels to shove it off the edge after the living mouse, wondering if this is mouse number two again or a fourth mouse. Being a cat owner can sometimes resemble being a homicide detective- three or four bodies?

I scold the damned cat roundly, trying to make him understand that he already has enough to eat that that I find tiny, pretty-little spleens totally repellent.

Bad Kitty

I love my cat, but it cannot comprehend that I don't feel the same way about dead and dying rats as it does. Yesterday, during dinner, he brought us a deceased one I immediately threw off the deck. While I know this is a sign of his respect for me, I wanted to teach him that dead mice are unappreciated. He's a slow learner, and tonight, at my door specifically, he meowed, and when I let him in he deposited another dead rat. I carried it out and left it on the corner of the deck. After confusedly sniffing the spot where he'd deposited the carcass, he wanted to go out again. I figured he wanted to desecrate the furry little corpse a bit more, so let him out. Five minutes later, I hear him whining to be let in.

I raise the blinds to check this time and, sure enough, he's got something in his mouth. Only this something's moving a bit. Apparently he's concluded I rejected previous mice because they were already deceased. I get dressed in a robe, grab hand towels and prepare to escort the tiny mammal to the ground, where he may heal or die. The mouse gathers it's strength and, on it's gimpy, injured leg, scrambles away. I follow it a bit and just, when I think the mouse may be safe, it suicidally runs between the posts of the deck's fenced sides.

The drop is at least seven feet, but I hear a skittering down their that suggests the mouse has miraculously survived and run homewards. Amazing Aerodynamic Mouse! It's then I notice a little half of a mouse closer to my door, sever neatly, trailing a small pale stomach hanging on by the intestine, having already dropped out a dark little kidney. I use the towels to shove it off the edge after the living mouse, wondering if this is mouse number two again or a fourth mouse. Being a cat owner can sometimes resemble being a homicide detective- three or four bodies?

I scold the damned cat roundly, trying to make him understand that he already has enough to eat that that I find tiny, pretty-little spleens totally repellent.