One of the many traits my family sees as positive in cats are their skills as “hunters”.
By “hunting”, we mean they fall somewhere on a spectrum between playing with toy mice on one end, and catching a bat while it’s flying around in my parents’ bedroom at the other.
It’s no secret that we’ve had a few impressive hunters residing with us in this house.
Otis was one example. Our little mountain lion (he was a tabby, but his coloring and facial features reminded us of his giant cousins who live in the wild), was one of the truly impressive hunters we’ve owned; he caught 7 mice within the span of two seasons, and would often come charging to your rescue if you thought you saw one in the middle of your princess-purple-carpeted floor (for the record, it was a lucky rabbit’s foot).
Of course, Sabrina gave him a run for his money – that flying bat at one end of the spectrum? Yeah, she set that record.
Long story short, a bat somehow got into my parents’ room, she chased it, mom then heard flapping, turned on the light, and watched in excited horror as our tiny Sabrina launched herself into the air and caught the poor thing between her claws. Mom managed to catch it before the little tiger did any real damage and let it go outside.
This summer, we’ve found our newest addition, Sadie, has certainly earned a place on the bat end of the spectrum. However, she does lose points for playing with the poor creature for too long, resulting in my parents trapping the mouse under a broom and smashing it multiple times with a fist.
R.I.P. little dude.
One cat I did NOT expect to move up on the spectrum was Spooky.
We’ve had her for quite a few years now – we found her under our bird feeder a week before Halloween my Senior year in high school – and we’ve watched her interact with both toy and live mice. If she doesn’t have to get up, she won’t.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case around 3:30 this morning.
I had finally fallen asleep around 1-ish, when I woke to hear one of the cats consistently calling for one of the humans. The closeness of the call told me it was Spooky, since she often sleeps in my room. Thinking she had puked, and that I didn’t want to wake up for that yet, I called back to her and patted my bed. I could feel the mattress give slightly as she hopped up, but she was still mewing. This is something she normally does when she’s bored and wants attention, so I decided to stay quiet and let her settle on her own.
Next thing I knew, I felt something small plop on my chest, then roll over to my side. Confusion arose hard and quick. I grabbed my phone and hit the power button to wake it up. My eyes managed to focus enough for me to see one beady black eye, soft grey fur, and a long limp tail.
Of course I screamed, lurched myself out of my bed, and held the dead carcass by the tip of the tail as I raced down the stairs, unbolted the doors, and threw the body out into the garden.
Was I shocked my normally lazy cat had presented me with her kill? Yes, yes I was. This was definitely not something you would ever expect from her.
Once I calmed down and washed my hands (vigorously), I immediately praised Spooky for catching and killing the mouse.
But I also had to tell her that presenting the kill at three in the morning was not one of her best ideas.
L.J. LaBree 