Daddy's gonna get you!
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“Hey, wha’d you catch there?” I asked her for some odd reason.
“What, did she catch something? Is it a mole,” My Wife asked hopefully.
The neighborhood mole has been terrorizing the entire street for years. We recently discovered that my genius of a cat has been catching it, carrying it around until it gets boring, and then dropping it still fully alive into our gardens. The mole happily buries itself and then proceeds to kill all sorts of expensive plants. The cat is enthralled. We had begun to suspect her of being a vegetarian, the traitor.
“No, I think it’s a mouse,” I responded with disappointment.
We looked it over, agreed that it was a mouse and then gave it back to her before returning to reading. I noticed out of the corner of my eye Eliza flipping the mouse into the air and pretending to catch it again and again. It was her favorite new toy. Finally, she brought it up onto the porch and just sat and licked it.
And then she started to bite at it.
And then suddenly I noticed that there was no sign of any mouse at all, not blood or hair or a tail or anything.
“Did you eat that? Did you eat the bones and everything?! Did you eat the whole thing without chewing,” I began to demand of my cat. My other cat was just watching her silently throughout the entire thing.
“What? Did she eat the mouse? Oh hell, now she’s going to fart all night. She’s been doing that all week. No wonder she smells so bad,” My Wife informed me.
“I especially hate when they eat chipmunks,” she told me. “Those farts are the worst.”