Why are cats so . . . . catt-ish?
I let the dog out for a wee last night. Both the cats had been in for about 20 minutes - I didn't think anything of it. While Sophie was performing her tinkle, I went to put some stuff in the recycling bin and trod on something squelchy . . . .
"Oh gawd!" I thought. "I stepped in poo (except I didn't think "poo")". Mr LB was summoned to bring a torch and a plastic bag, and by the light of the torch I found it wasn't poo - it was a vole which I had crushed and burst, squishing the contents of its little vole insides all over the place.
As I shone the torch round to ensure I cleaned up all of the entrails I realised that the small area outside the kitchen door was like the railway scene in "Gone with the Wind" - you know, when the camera pans away for a long shot and there is slaughter and suffering as far as the eye can see!
Seven little victims - 4 voles, 3 wood mice (nooooooooooo! - I love voles and wood mice!), 2 of which Mr LB had to despatch because they were so horribly injured but sadly still struggling. They hadn't been there an hour before when I was out rattling treats and shouting for the lads - the little buggers must have gone on a killing spree the minute I'd given up trying to get them back in. No warning, either - generally when The Mighty Hunters have made a kill they are so full of themselves they yowl until one of us comes out to admire the slaughter, praise them for their skill and courage and thank them for their contribution to the larder (we don't really have the victims for our tea - we just say that so the cats feel they are doing their bit.) At least we haven't had any rabbits brought back for a while.
It's the only downside to having a cat . . . (actually, there are about fifty downsides to having a cat, but this is the most upsetting one).
I let the dog out for a wee last night. Both the cats had been in for about 20 minutes - I didn't think anything of it. While Sophie was performing her tinkle, I went to put some stuff in the recycling bin and trod on something squelchy . . . .
"Oh gawd!" I thought. "I stepped in poo (except I didn't think "poo")". Mr LB was summoned to bring a torch and a plastic bag, and by the light of the torch I found it wasn't poo - it was a vole which I had crushed and burst, squishing the contents of its little vole insides all over the place.
As I shone the torch round to ensure I cleaned up all of the entrails I realised that the small area outside the kitchen door was like the railway scene in "Gone with the Wind" - you know, when the camera pans away for a long shot and there is slaughter and suffering as far as the eye can see!
Seven little victims - 4 voles, 3 wood mice (nooooooooooo! - I love voles and wood mice!), 2 of which Mr LB had to despatch because they were so horribly injured but sadly still struggling. They hadn't been there an hour before when I was out rattling treats and shouting for the lads - the little buggers must have gone on a killing spree the minute I'd given up trying to get them back in. No warning, either - generally when The Mighty Hunters have made a kill they are so full of themselves they yowl until one of us comes out to admire the slaughter, praise them for their skill and courage and thank them for their contribution to the larder (we don't really have the victims for our tea - we just say that so the cats feel they are doing their bit.) At least we haven't had any rabbits brought back for a while.
It's the only downside to having a cat . . . (actually, there are about fifty downsides to having a cat, but this is the most upsetting one).
