I am being tormented by love from the world's greatest mouser.

[Poll_Blind]

  It is just after 12:00am here on the West Coast and, again, Isabella (the cat of this house) has caught another mouse. I am house-sitting for a friend- who has much more of a mouse problem than he ever knew or let on. I know this because every day for the last three days Isabella has caught one while I was watching her. Today, two.

  Isabella is maybe 12 weeks old. She's a tiny little tortoise-shell colored kitty with an unusually-long tail. A seemingly-prehensile tail.

  And she is the world's greatest mouser. The Manfred von Richthofen of mousers. Now normally this would not be worth mentioning, except that I am unable to put the kitty, twitching prize in mouth, outside the house to finish the long grim dance that a cat has with a mouse before finally eating it. Because there is a way that she can get back into the house that I cannot block-off. And she always brings the damned mouse back with her to continue the one-act play. I refuse to take the mouse away from her and dispose of it in some alternative manner- I feel it's her meal earned and the least I can do in appreciation for being rid of vermin is letting her eat it.

  But, frankly, I'm getting unnerved that every time I dip into Alan Moorehead's "The White Nile" for the last half hour, for instance, I have been drawn forcibly out of that lush, head-foot jeweled prose only to be yanked out in the following way:

In a vague and general way the Sultans of Zanzibar laid claim to a part at least of this vast area, but in point of fact their power was restricted to the coastline was was not really effective even there.

(squeak) (swat) (tumble) (squeak of pain and fear)

During the dry seasons slave and ivory caravans found their way into the wilderness that lay beyond and were gone for a year or more, perhaps for ever, but that was all one ever heard of Central Africa.

(squeak) (swat) (squeak) (swat) (crunch) (hideous squeak of actually being eaten alive)

It was almost as remote and strange as outer space is today.

  And then, even with the interruptions, that sentence sets my mind wandering and when kitty appears on my lap like some famously-subtle conjuring trick, I absent-mindedly reach out a hand to stroke her soft fur and her head shoots right up to my face, to lick and nuzzle my chin which is her personal way of saying "I love you". And twice now it has taken the smell of something...unusual on her breath to make me realize why I don't want her licking my face- when it was already too late. Since I would not naturally turn a mouse inside out and rub the contents on my lips I find myself put off by this something fierce and run spitting and stammering into the bathroom where I apply whatever my friend would happen to have that would kill what haunts the insides of a mouse. So far, Scope is the disinfectant of choice.

  That's it. No punch-line. I'm probably going to be here a few more days and I know this kitty is going to give me un besito del muerto again when I least expect it. Augggh!

PB

[Skittles]

1. I do not allow my cats to torture other creatures

it may be in their nature to do so but it is not in MY nature to watch or hear so I PUT A STOP TO IT

[Poll_Blind]

2. I find it most unnerving. Embarassingly unnerving. Yet I feel deep...

...down it's only because I've been trained to be unnerved by it and that what the cat does is more natural than the abstract predator/prey relationship I had with the adobada burrito I had earlier in the evening.

  Still, if you could see me on the couch...a grown man peeking, not-peeking, over the edge of a great work of literature in apprehension as Tom finally catches Jerry...it's purely absurd and comic. However, there's nothing comical about the squeaks. It's beyond terrible, actually. But isn't that even more absurd? That I would seriously describe a cat eating a mouse as "beyond terrible" given those things that humans are doing to each other at this very moment? And yet it is, in its own way, but purely without...malice(?).

PB

[Skittles]

3. something that works

pick up something - anything, and hurl it at your cat so it does not hit him but lands nearby - the cat is so startled it drops its prey and runs

[Oeditpus Rex]

4. Lucy could out-mouse Isabella any day

Her record's three in one day. She's done that twice.

I estimate her total to date at around 50.

That's not counting the odd bird or lizard.

[deucemagnet]

5. I think my mom's cat, Wanda, is possibly the greatest hunter I've ever seen.

Since I've been living with my parents in rural Pennsylvania, Wanda has brought back a sample of every type of small rodent, including field mice, kangaroo mice, moles, voles, squirrels, and chipmunks. And yet, she's the sweetest, gentlest, petite little longhair calico you'd ever want to meet. Go figure. :shrug:

[texanwitch]

6. Did ya'll see the lions eating the water buffalo.

Cats will be cats.

[badgerpup]

7. My Misha caught a snake once...

...we were out in the yard and he lets out this "Maaaa?" he had something that looked like an old bootlace. I looked closer and it MOVED so the first thing I did was look at the tail...OK, no rattle, we're cool. Just a garden-variety bug-eater snake (I would have recognized a garter snake), so I told him how clever he was, but he really should let it go. He did, and the poor critter crawled off under some rocks.

Our rule is "What happens outside, STAYS outside." If they try to bring it in the house, I take it away from them. If they catch something in the house (rarely) they have to take it outside.

My little Kaminari once caught a finch and came trotting in with it, still alive, and Misha was right behind her. They were going to have a game of "Volley Bird" in the living room.
Nuh-uh...no way.

[The Velveteen Ocelot]

8. One of the side effects of living with a carnivorous beast, I guess.

Isabella may claim the title of World's Greatest Mouser only because the former holder of the title, my Teddy, passed into kitty heaven last year. I have also had the experience of spending a quiet, relaxing evening reading, only to hear... pitterpitterpitterpitterTHUMP...rustle...rustle...SQUEAK...crunchcrunchcrunch...

I'd look up, see Teddy munching on ... something ... and choose not to keep watching. Mostly he'd eat the entire mouse, but occasionally I'd find small indeterminate bits of mouse meat, mostly (but not always) before I stepped on them, barefoot. Once he caught a bat, and he was very proud of himself (as he was entitled to be), but after some effort (which involved chasing him through the house as he clutched the flapping, squeaking bat in his jaws) I was able to relieve him of his prize and set the bat free.

My current cats have not caught anything that I know of. I hope it stays that way.