He's a Hunter
Jun. 14th, 2006 07:14 amCats 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.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-14 11:27 am (UTC)Of course, there have been occassions when they found REAL mice, still wriggling, and brought them to me to toss!
I scramble onto the highest surface, saying, "Good kitty, good girl, you brought dinner. Now get that thing AWAY from me!"
They are thoroughly disgusted.
Felicia (now deceased), once bothered me because she didn't like the food I put down, so I said to her, "Well, then, why don't YOU go out and get us some dinner?"
She found a mouse, killed it, brought it triumphantly over -- and dropped it in my shoe.
The monologue, "Married" was born from that, and has done well both in WOMEN WITH AN EDGE and out on its own.
I never asked her to bring in the dinner again! She made her point.