He's a Hunter
Jun. 14th, 2006 07:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceCats do famously like to fetch their kills home, laying out little corpses on the landing for their humans to admire. Something like bringing in the shopping, I guess, and/or offering little gifts to secure a relationship.
Barry's no different, except that he doesn't currently have access to little corpses, so he rummages. This is a good house for rummaging, many unregarded corners and much loose aggregation of clutter that a cat can dig around in.
He finds small soft things, and leaves them here and there in the hall/stairs/landings matrix (again a good house, many stairs, many landings: only two bedrooms, mind, but the layout's a bit eccentric). Often it's socks, I never knew there were so many strays; this morning it's a triumph, he's slaughtered a crocodile. Just a baby one, perhaps the length of my forearm, and fortunately a cuddly one, not the kind that comes with scales and entrails and teeth. I wish I'd seen him with it; that's the trouble with a companion whose sleep is out of phase with your own, half their fun-time is your down-time. I was wondering just the other day, where he is at night, because he's generally not with me; now I know, he's off adventuring in other realms, and fetching his trophies home. This one is pre-stuffed; now all we need is a mounting.
Barry's no different, except that he doesn't currently have access to little corpses, so he rummages. This is a good house for rummaging, many unregarded corners and much loose aggregation of clutter that a cat can dig around in.
He finds small soft things, and leaves them here and there in the hall/stairs/landings matrix (again a good house, many stairs, many landings: only two bedrooms, mind, but the layout's a bit eccentric). Often it's socks, I never knew there were so many strays; this morning it's a triumph, he's slaughtered a crocodile. Just a baby one, perhaps the length of my forearm, and fortunately a cuddly one, not the kind that comes with scales and entrails and teeth. I wish I'd seen him with it; that's the trouble with a companion whose sleep is out of phase with your own, half their fun-time is your down-time. I was wondering just the other day, where he is at night, because he's generally not with me; now I know, he's off adventuring in other realms, and fetching his trophies home. This one is pre-stuffed; now all we need is a mounting.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-14 10:51 am (UTC)And I did have a mouse in the house, briefly, between Misha's leaving and Barry's arrival; and shortly after he came it did turn up dead on the carpet, but there wasn't a mark on it. Maybe he frightened it to death, but I have my suspicions; I don't think he had anything to do with it, I think it just died. Maybe he batted it about a bit afterwards, to put it so conspicuously out where I'd be walking, but he forgot to batter it convincingly bloody.
On the other hand, every time a dog goes past the window, Barry is there, bristling and eager, let-me-at-it! Which is almost the definition of a fake, eyes larger than his stomach, boastful and hollow...