Thursday, August 18, 2016

Fun With Misty (Miss Tabby, Miss T)

I have a wonderful new kitty. She is a small, soft, brown tabby teenager. The neighbor who found her on the street described her as a lap cat. She likes my lap well enough, but even more enjoys lying on my shoulder.

She was a sweet, cuddly creature for the first few days, as she was learning her new territory - my flat and the backyard.

Then she felt enough at home to graduate to twilight terrorist, or night-time nut. She runs from one end of my home to the other, bouncing off walls. When I offered her a toy to play with, she'd chomp down on it and munch till it was dead. Even when she was in my lap, stroking her elicited claw-tipped paws as often as purrs.

Almost immediately, she took up hunting duties in the backyard, slaying a rat and stalking birds.

This morning, however, she had brought a bird inside and was tearing at its innards when I got up to visit the bathroom, as if to chide me for being late with her breakfast.

And after eating the cat food I provided, she brought inside a partly killed mouse - injured enough that it wasn't running around, but still breathing. After thanking her for the gift and praising her prowess, I should've drowned the mouse out of its misery. Instead, all I could think to do was get it the hell out of my home.

I left it on my back porch, near the eviscerated bird. Bedarned if she didn't follow it outside and resume playing with it. In the absence of furniture to bat it under, she found a space between two boards to knock it into. So my next joyful participation in her play will be to fish it out with some chopsticks and deposit it in the compost bin. Oh boy.