My kill, a gift
A sparrow flew into my human's living room through the balcony one day. Stupid bird that it was, it couldn't find the way out.
Such critters should be taken out of the animal kingdom's gene pool, right?
I - *sniff* - became the (self-appointed) hitman.
I watched. I swished my tail excitedly. I voiced my excitement in the series of un-meow-like clicks that all cat-owners know about.
I pounced - and missed - a few times. Then one swat of my right paw got him as he flew low for a second or two. I think I broke his wing, which bled a little. He fluttered along the floor, leaving little bloody marks.
I smacked him down one last time. [You can just picture me doing that, right? Me, the superior, flashing vision of white fur, moving with lightning speed?] I saw the whites of his beady little eyes as the light faded out of them.
No mercy at King Nookie's paws. Mua hah hah hah! I was triumphant.
This would show all of those friends of my human who laugh at me, call me fat, call me spoilt and a poor hunter because I had food fed to me every day. This would show 'em. We never really lose it, our wild side.
Actually, my first thought was to make a gift of my kill to my human. She deserved this tribute.
This wasn't my first kill. I presented her a lizard a few years ago, laying it at my feet, as I sat up very straight and looked up at her for approval. She praised me then, even though she screwed up her face in unmistakeable disgust as she picked it up.
What can I say? Humans just don't quite get it, right?
Anyway, I picked up the sparrow in my mouth and set him down in my food bowl. My human would be bound to see it there, since she cleaned it out every morning before giving me my fresh Science Diet kibble. [I'm smart, I am.]
I watched as she approached the food bowl - and yelped.
She recovered really quickly though, and picked up the bird gingerly with a kitchen towel. She came to me and knelt down, holding the bird in one hand. With her free hand, she stroked me and said soothingly: "Good cat, Nookie! Thank you for the present."
I was bursting with pride.
Such critters should be taken out of the animal kingdom's gene pool, right?
I - *sniff* - became the (self-appointed) hitman.
I watched. I swished my tail excitedly. I voiced my excitement in the series of un-meow-like clicks that all cat-owners know about.
I pounced - and missed - a few times. Then one swat of my right paw got him as he flew low for a second or two. I think I broke his wing, which bled a little. He fluttered along the floor, leaving little bloody marks.
I smacked him down one last time. [You can just picture me doing that, right? Me, the superior, flashing vision of white fur, moving with lightning speed?] I saw the whites of his beady little eyes as the light faded out of them.
No mercy at King Nookie's paws. Mua hah hah hah! I was triumphant.
This would show all of those friends of my human who laugh at me, call me fat, call me spoilt and a poor hunter because I had food fed to me every day. This would show 'em. We never really lose it, our wild side.
Actually, my first thought was to make a gift of my kill to my human. She deserved this tribute.
This wasn't my first kill. I presented her a lizard a few years ago, laying it at my feet, as I sat up very straight and looked up at her for approval. She praised me then, even though she screwed up her face in unmistakeable disgust as she picked it up.
What can I say? Humans just don't quite get it, right?
Anyway, I picked up the sparrow in my mouth and set him down in my food bowl. My human would be bound to see it there, since she cleaned it out every morning before giving me my fresh Science Diet kibble. [I'm smart, I am.]
I watched as she approached the food bowl - and yelped.
She recovered really quickly though, and picked up the bird gingerly with a kitchen towel. She came to me and knelt down, holding the bird in one hand. With her free hand, she stroked me and said soothingly: "Good cat, Nookie! Thank you for the present."
I was bursting with pride.
posted by AmyC at 12:21 AM
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