The cat always brings her victims back to the house and parades them around to show off her victories over the local birds and mammals. Most of the times the birds are still alive so we expedite the suffering and give the cat the now dead “toy” back. Yesterday she brought a mouse in unharmed, and played with it for a while in the basement. I’m sure the mouse was acting in self-defence, but if you watch the video it looks like the mouse is playing back. Midway through the video, the mouse went up my leg and then ran off, disappearing into one of the basement rooms.
The morning after, we found their play-date had come to a tragic end for the mouse. Later in the morning, our cat started to bring back baby mice from outside, one by one, gently in her mouth and left them on the back doormat.
The cat’s new family.
I think the cat’s intent was to kill the mother to lay claim to the pups to keep as her own. It all started to make sense: we told her earlier last week that she was fixed and she’s been taking it kind of hard.
Ours is not dead, her behaviour just warrants the death penalty sometimes.
There seems to be a lot popping up in my life related to dead cats. Our little monster made her largest kill the other week. Not a sparrow, dove or the usual blue jay, but another cat. Being as she’s a runt and doesn’t stand a chance against the large tom she was plotting against on our front lawn, she didn’t kill him by hand (or is it paw?), but instead timed her pounce perfectly with a passing car. The tom ran scared into the car and a few thumps later, our cat was in the road inspecting her latest victim.
Jokes aside, it was sad to see someone’s pet mowed down by a car. The worst part was waiting for animal services to pick up the cadavre (catavre?). The assassination was on the Monday, and it wasn’t picked up until Friday. In the weather we’ve had lately, I don’t envy the poor worker who had to pick up the box we left next to our house.
I thought that maybe this was a time to apply the ideas behind Schrödinger’s cat, but once the fumes of rotten kitty developed I realized I couldn’t consider it dead and alive. It was most definitely dead.
Only reason I write this is because I happened to stumble upon this article about longevity, where the author ponders if he will outlive his cat.
The article is worth the read, but my experience is not worth going through.
Last Friday I was working from home and decided to release the dove that the cat decided to attack. A friend of ours was nice enough to bring us a proper cage the weekend before to keep it in. After a week of fattening it up for either release or dinner, it looked more likely to be enjoying a slightly less barbecued life. The only issue it seemed to struggle with after a week was an eye that was swollen shut. The cat must have swiped it across its face during their “game”. The winking eye helped solidify a name for the bird though: semi-colon.
Back to the release. I put the cage outside, opened the door and sort of expected it to peel out and race up to the skies. Nothing of the sort. It sat in the doorway for about twenty minutes and then decided to go back in for some food and water. Another hour or so later and it was in the garden flapping about and it eventually flapped its way out of our lives.
So there is either a winking mourning dove flying around our neighbourhood, or a satisfied cat that attacked one from its left side.
****Forgot to post this earlier. For anyone interested in cooking up some mourning doves, here is a really tasty looking recipe: http://www.grit.com/Arrows-and-Minnows/Game-Recipes-A-Dove-Recipe-for-the-Grill.aspx
Well not really a new chicken, and not really a bird we were expecting to keep. This morning I noticed the cat with her first (as far as we know) kill. When I walked up to congratulate her, I quickly took back my high-fives and “booyahs” as she hadn’t killed our new friend, the dove. At first glance it didn’t look too bad, no blood, nothing hanging off or twisted in the wrong direction so I took it off the cat.
I thought the eyes looked pretty. The cat thought they looked delicious.
After carrying it around for a while and calming it down I decided to let it go, to soar back up to the heavens, to sing its song once again….ah shit, can’t fly still. With the epic release spoiled by its injuries, I picked it up again and created a temporary home for it on the patio where is can rest up away from hungry cats and people trying to get it to fly.
I don't think we'll be eating this bird, so does anyone have any ideas for a name?
I’ll keep you posted on how it’s doing. Hopefully it’ll mend and be on its way.
The message below is not authored by me, nor is the idea of celebrating the birthday of such an evil little animal. Must say though, I’d miss her if she was gone. The following from my long suffering wife:
“Happy 1st birthday* Gia!
*approximate date estimated by vet
A year ago she was a hissy runt from a feral litter with a nasty eye infection. Today, Gia is a diminutive, anti-social cat with nasty stink eye.
Aside from ice cream sandwiches and tuna juice, she also shares our passion for home grown delicacies, such as this cat grass.
This will be her first summer at our house with full run of the garden. We have high hopes of her terrorizing the squirrels that routinely dig up our plants. She’s been perfecting her ambush technique.”
So there you have it. The cat is older.