5 AM this morning, I heard Lily make a noise I’ve only heard once (maybe twice?) before in 11 years. It can best be described as:
It translates roughly to, “Iz in my mouf, wat do?”
Yes, my little hunter caught a mouse. Note: caught, not killed.
The late great Carmenator was an exceptionally efficient hunter. No fuss, no muss, no announcements – always a quick dispatch and then she would leave the mouse on the kitchen floor to find at my convenience a few times a year.
Lily, not so much. When she does catch one, which is very rare, she then drops it and gently pats it on the head, and then doesn’t understand why it wants to leave. Carmen even tried to teach her once – watched with my own eyes as she caught a mouse, *called* Lily, dropped it in front of her, and Lily…patted it on the head. Never seen a cat look so disappointed in a fellow feline.
But, Lily & I worked together (OK, me saying, “Pay Attention!!” every time she looked away from it) and I scrambled for a little basket, and a capture & release ensued. (Felt kinda bad putting it out in this weather, but it will either figure it out or be a snack for the fox or an owl. It sucks, but it also can’t stay inside.)
But she did good, and didn’t drop it on the bed, and got tons and tons of praise, and thankfully, didn’t seem terribly disappointed that her prize had to be taken outside.
I love this little goober.