After months of trying to get our cat to kill one of the gangsta mice that lived in our house this winter—a task in which she was totally disinterested—she has made her first step toward earning her keep. This morning as I left the house a "gift" of a dead mole had been left for me on our front door mat.
Thing 2 was impressed, but wary. He circled it many times, but kept a distance. Thing 1, on the other hand, has her paternal grandmother's commonsense approach to dealing with dead critters, and picked it up and threw it in a bucket.
The drawing above is by Thing 2. He documented the corpse well....down to the weird pink nose.
12 comments:
things 2's reaction also reminds me of her paternal grandfather's approach to unwanted critters: one summer the sister and i were loitering around in the carport when a big hairy tarantula came scurrying along. we squirmed and screeched, until papaw came out and silenced us by stepping on the creature.
probably grandma came out to put it in the bucket after that.....
Indeed, your Grandpa F. would certainly have disposed of the carcass without fanfare...not a trait I personally inherited. I've left the bodies of dead gangsta mice caught in traps in the house for The Reenactor to deal with...although I usually cover them with a paper towel out of respect, and so I don't have to look at them.
And to clarify, it was The Reenactor's mother I was referrring to (paternal, not maternal grandmother). I think Marion would have thought it was best that Howard take care of such things.
I think the Tarantula Incident happened before Shley was born.
I have a couple of dogs that would absolutely love to play with your moles. They find things that move and are alive, tons of fun.
PS, Thing 2's representation was well done, I appreciate seeing its beedy little eyes.
whoops... i guess if i'd stopped to think about it i would've realized that putting a dead varmint in a bucket is not something our maternal grandmother would've done.
funny that i remember something that happened when i wasn't there. how does that work?
There may be a reason Saf does not kill on command.
She is pissed at us.
Usually, it is a result of putting up with Things 1 & 2 toting her arond the house in various positions, simply waiting for her chance to escape. So far, she has not ripped anyone's throat out, so bonus points for her.
Then there is the dry crap we feed her, or the tap water she drinks. All of which would leave any sensible employee looking for other opportunities.
But this morning probably has her polishing the old resume for greener pastures.
Since Saf has discovered the Big Outdoors, she wants to go out and explore, and since I am the first one up in the morning, usually coincinding with her awakening and morning rave, I have been letting her out to allow the Things and SWMBO an extra modicum of sleep. Last night, I could not find her. Thing Two said most assuredly that she was outside. When I went to bed, no cat at the door.
Nor this morning.
The Worst, I was thinking.
Then, just before I left for work, I thought of looking in the garage. When I opened the door from the laundry room, there she sat on the mat, the cat (apologies to the good Dr.). She looked up at me with this same squint-eyed stare that Tim Robbins had after getting out of solitary in the Shawshank Redemption, or Steve McQueen in Pappion (sp).
Get the comparison?
Anyway, she did score a bowl of milk, since we are OUT OF CAT FOOD.
So, if you see Saf near the art table this morning, guiltly slinking away, you know why. That resume isn't going to write itself.
I thought that the dead animals that the cat left for you were not gifts but warnings something akin to the mob putting a horse head in your bed.
For the record, The Reenactor's "we're OUT OF CAT FOOD" directive, aimed no doubt at his bride of nearly 12 long years, was actually incorrect. We DO have cat food....a stash I keep as backup. I will show him first thing where it is kept.
Oh, and we don't feed her "crap" cat food....she gets the good stuff!
She's just lazy, we must all admit it. Early on she ws so damn grateful to not be in the cage at PetsMart any more she put up with damn near anything, but now she knows life is good. I think Jackie might be onto something....I think the dead mole is her warning to us that the Gangsta Mice are planning something.
And by the way... I don't remember EVER encountering a tarantula at the Marshfield house. What the heck? Where did a tarantula come from?
The woods. At night. Lured, no doubt, by the eerie yellow bug lights on the car port. Your father dispatched it with one great stomp in his Florsheims. I think they were wingtips. PS This is my new handle.
I don't EVEN want to know where that name came from!!!!!!
If I wasn't so darn busy with end-of-school stuff I would write more.
Stay posted.
Let's be honest, if they could, the cats would have us all dead.
-That Guy
Post a Comment