There is no longer a detox. I’m just not Facebooking as much as I was. And there is so much to write about. Today might be a two- parter.
Let’s start with the post I never got to finish: My Cat is a Mass Murderer.
She’s an indoor cat, she’s technically not allowed outside. But the dogs let her out in the evenings. They may be trying to get her eaten by an owl or possibly they have made a deal with a pack of coyotes. Perhaps she’s just running between their paws. Maybe she plans to split the catch with them. No matter how she does it, she gets out.
And then she hunts.
When she was a young barn kitten, before we brought her in, she was a terrible hunter. I, myself, witnessed mice outsmarting her. In middle age, she’s suddenly become Queen of the … um… pasture.
At first we thought the mice were getting in the house and she was catching them. Then we realized that she was bringing the mice in and letting them go so she could refine her skills indoors. (A previous blog post recounts how, as a result of this game, I had to refine my mouse catching skills as well.) So far her count has been about 3 indoors, and perhaps 4-5 outside left on the stoop outside the dog door.
Maybe she’s trying to intimidate the dogs? “I am a mighty huntress! Look out or you’re next!”
She eats them just as BKliban describes. We only ever have to clean up the back half of mousies. She bites their heads off and then I don’t know what she does. We haven’t found a secret cache of tiny mouse skulls anywhere.
I would prefer a pacifist cat. One that simply watches wildlife out the window as she contorts herself into implausible grooming positions. One that is content with kitty kibble in her bowl and a soft kitty bed near the fireplace. Living with a mass murderer who likes to sleep on your head at night is a little disconcerting.