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04.07.2004 - 9:00 p.m.


This morning I let the cat in from our bedroom patio door, and she came waddling in the house with a BIRD in her mouth.

In retrospect I should have known something was up; she hadn't been issuing her normal complaining yowl. What she was doing, out there…well, if a cat could chortle, that's what she was doing.

I can't tell you what a disturbing sight it was - the limp, lifeless body dangling from her mouth, her unexpectedly feral expression. This was an animal that was supposed to be content with Healthy Weight Management Purina Special Care kibble, not out ruthlessly slaughtering our neighborhood songbirds for brunch.

"MEERCAT," I squawked (using her full name for effect, you know). She dropped it briefly but then hunched over and scooped it up again before hustling down the hall. I raced after her, thoroughly freaked out. "Put it down!" I yelled stupidly, attracting Dog's attention, who immediately grabbed her stuffed armadillo, which thanks anyway Dog, did not help the situation at hand.

I had to pluck Cat up by her scruff and shake her briefly in order to dislodge the bird, which thumped to the floor unpleasantly. Lobbing the cat into the backyard, I surveyed the corpse. My worst fear was that it wouldn't be dead after all, and would lurch into painful, blood-spattering flight, careening around inside the house and maybe ending up in my hair, GRAH, but no, it's flying, singing, and regurgitating-into-the-beaks-of-its-young days were over.

Although I wished for giant tongs, I had to make do with paper toweling in order to remove the bird and toss it, gently, into the garbage can.

The OUTSIDE garbage can. Please.

Honestly, I'm befuddled as to how she made the kill. I've seen evidence of her predatory nature before; small, toe-curled mice lying stiff with matted, chewed fur. But a bird…they can fly, right? How does a portly, middle-aged cat manage to sneak up on a nervous winged creature like that? Did the bird not hear the galump galump galump of her porky little paws as she lumbered towards it?

It's just freaky when your inbred many-generations-from-the-lion pet sheds their domesticity in front of your very eyes. It's like a cow suddenly taking a ravenous bite out of you. Plus, I LIKE birds, dammit.

"We're gonna bell that cat," I said to JB after calling him somewhat hysterically this morning.
"No way man," he said firmly. "She's a cat."

What does that even mean?

All along, I have suspected cats, at the root of their little black hearts, are deeply, deeply evil. And now we're living with a feline serial killer. Who will be next? Dear god, WHO???

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9 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

yay, diaryland