Filed under: Uncategorized
May 5, 2010
Kitteh Love
I live with executioners. Unblinking, unwavering, undaunted killers. And they both LUV me. How does a kitteh show his love? (Put your lunch down right now if you’re smart) He leaves you presents – furry, feathered, used-to-scamper-and-frolic presents. The first week of spring yielded my very own horror show version of the 12 Days of Christmas.
On the first day of spring my beast of a kitteh gave to me: One dead white bunny.
On the second day of spring my beast gave to me: One stiff robin.
On the third day of spring my beast gave to me: A still twitching chipmunk.
On the fourth day of spring my beast gave to me: A field mouse, gray with pink little paws.
He stopped there THANK GOD because if I came out the front door and screamed for a fifth morning I’m pretty sure my neighbors would have been miffed. They’re musicians and they don’t get up at the ass crack of dawn like I do. BTW, all their musician friends greet my chief killer cat by name affectionately as if they are on intimate terms. I think he’s over there sitting in on jam sessions when he’s not out killing things.
So, how do I know all these delights were meant for me? (really, put the sandwich down) They are always left on the front door matt and are in perfectly preserved condition. The bounty he takes for himself ends up in pieces and parts and requires a hose to get off the porch. I hated dissection in school, but I passed, so I can tell you what a mouse spine and a chipmunk liver look like as the water wooshes them off the porch.
The carnage had stopped for a while until this morning’s offering of a beautiful little gray mouse. The creepy part is that said mouse had been totally licked clean – maybe like a kitteh Popsicle or something. I gave the cats a little bowl of milk yesterday. Really, I would prefer to have been thanked another way – maybe by a nice lap snuggle or a keyboard crawl.
Have you ever been given a gift out of the “heart” (get it!) that you really would prefer to have not gotten?
I think I witnessed this one: “On the third day of spring my beast gave to me: A still twitching chipmunk.” I would not survive the Apocalypse.