When your new roommates are murderers…
⇒Trigger warning: the following post contains stuff that made me toss my cookies. You might want to pop over to YouTube instead and see what’s happening with Johnny and Amber. Just sayin…

Our two used kitties from the Cat Rescue. Sure, they look adorable. Big eyes, fluffy tails… Purring, for god’s sake.
We’re into the white nights section of summer here in Scotland. It barely gets dark before the sky starts to lighten.

Yesterday, I woke up at around 4AM, not because of the pearly morning light pouring through my window, but because of the furry little paw patting my cheek.
I stumbled out of the bed, reached for my glasses and phone to confirm that yes, we still had hours before dawn, and set my foot down onto their latest corpse. The dead rodent was still squishy.
⇒NOTE:This post, like yesterday, is only going to go downhill. Hey, I did warn you.
After boiling my foot and marinating it in a vat of antibacterial soap, I turned on all the lights. The Hub groaned and pulled pillows over his head, so no help there. With a dim memory of feline mahem and glee from the night before, I began my tour.

There was another dead mouse under my office chair. And in the dining room. And, in obvious gross violation of all that’s holy, carefully draped over my slipper in the downstairs hall.
Each little corpse was enshrouded in one of the leftover doggie poo bags, and removed. By me. (Even though I’m fairly sure that somewhere in our wedding vows the Hub had promised to love, honor, and remove large spiders and random corpses. Something like that…)

I wasn’t even through my first cup of coffee when I heard the cats climb on their motorcycles and start banging around the whole downstairs, yelling and thumping, and generally having a terrific time. The Hub was still pretending to be in a sleep coma, so I went in to find yet another little mousie being used as a live football. NOTE: The mouse was still alive. My cats are thrill killers, not meat eaters. If they lived in the USA, they would undoubtedly have tiny semi-automatic weapons for their sport hunting. But even their teensie little fluff-brains know that Little Friskies tuna treats taste MUCH better than Little (dead) Rodents.

I retrieved the terrified little mouse, carried him out to the woods across the street, warned him about coming back into The Killing Fields (our back garden) and released him.
My roommates (the ones who weren’t still pretending to be asleep) were NOT PLEASED.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—but we are definitely going to take as many mousies with us as possible.
You’re ungrateful. They were only doing their bit in stocking the larder for you.
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No larder stocking happened. My cats might not be members of Mensa, but they certainly know that Little Friskies beat Dead Rodents any time.
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Oh My!! HAHAHAHA! I know I am horrible but…. HAHAHAHA! Whew, great way to start the day. A defence lawyer would argue that their actions were in keeping with their perceived responsibilities that require them to use their inherent feline skills (finely honed I might add) to keep you safe by any means possible. Even if there was only a small chance that they were Terrorists toting bubonic plague within their teeny tiny bodies your cat had to eradicate the danger. It happened once before you know, remember the dark ages? Or they were just having fun.
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I never considered that the cats were selflessly trying to remove the entire field mouse population of Arran in order to protect me from the Black Death. [wipes away a tear]
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This is a serious problem.
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You do understand that the cats are IMPORTING the mice? Since there is an apparently endless supply of outdoor rodents, and I only have the one pair of slippers, I have to agree. A serious problem.
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The squishy dead rodent experience! Still having shudders. I’ve also had the mixed pleasure of seeing next door’s cat catch, release and catch again (and again) the same terrified mouse and intervened to stop play. One of my mother’s cats ignored mice but would bring in wounded birds which we would discover fluttering feebly under beds or dissected on the door mat.
I found this far too funny to harbour any ill-will to your wee, fluffy terrorists. 🤣🤣🤣
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So far anyway, the ex-mice far outnumber murdered birds.
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Hmm…I’d forgotten that delightful habit with being owned by cats. I’ll stick to dogs I think 😉 Love the pics though, they are gorgeous and the view is to die for.
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AS they say, dogs have owners. Cats have staff.
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Actually in America in 2020 Cats killed 2x as many mice with knives than all types of guns combined. Cats are complex creatures. More going on in their devious little minds than we know. 🙂
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Ah, I see you have been owned by a cat.
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Three. They are very wise and very devious.
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Oh my – I remember the nights of having “gifts” – both feathered and furred – delivered to me in my bed – direct delivery that involved dropping them in my face. So delightful.
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Thanks Carol. IN YOUR FACE? And I’m supposed to sleep tonight HOW?
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And they look so innocent. One of my outdoor cats – a large and fluffy one like yours – brought me a squirrel head as a present. But his favorite gifts were baby bunnies, which he gently carried to the back door and meowed for us to see what he’s done. The bunnies were fine after we warmed them in a dark box, and we deposited them far out into the woods, much to the cat’s disgust. We nevertheless praised him outrageously – he did keep down the rodent population!
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Things to keep you awake at night #6-bazillion:
What do you suppose happened to the rest of that squirrel?
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I suspect he ate the darn thing. The head was too crunchy.
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Our old cat Laptop was basically part zombie. He would leave small corpses (he particularly favored bunnies) with ONLY their brains consumed. [🙀Brainzzzzz!] It was disturbing, but at least he lined them up on the back step and not in my bedroom.
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We are the owners of remarkable cats!
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Wonderful post! I used to have cats (my M has become horribly allergic, and since he likes breathing, I had to find new homes for them) and they did the same – woke me with their little “presents.” Yum. Not.
I work in the far north (above 60 degrees N latitude) and right now we don’t have much in the way of darkness. A sort of brightish twilight is the darkest it becomes.
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I know there are people who hate the white nights, but we really love it. January, though? Not so much.
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Nope, not my favourite either. So cold and dark.
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I think the wedding vows only refer to human corpses. That means you’re on your own with rodenty ones.
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NOW you tell me…
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I know, I know. Read the fine print. If in doubt, consult a lawyer.
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See, that’s what I get for not learning hebrew before I signed the Ketubah.
Just kidding—when I found out that only the groom signs (accepting the bride’s dowry!) and there was absolutely no mention of putting down the seat on the toilet or taking his turn giving birth, I decided the marriage contract was worthless.
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Just one more reason to go with a write-your-own secular ceremony.
Actually, I kind of wince at the idea of people writing their own vows. When my partner and I (after something like 40 years) got married, I was prepared to mumble any sort of nonsense but was endlessly relieved when I found out they’d accept a vowless marriage. We didn’t promise nothin’.
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Well at least you didn’t buy into vows written in a contract you couldn’t actually read. I mean—who does that?🫢
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Good question. Anyone who checks those little boxes that say “I have read the terms and” whatever it is “and understand them and agree with whatever it is they say.”
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Hey, I resemble that remark!
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I do see your point, though, about signing something in an alphabet you can’t decipher. That takes it to a whole new level.
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Pingback: Stone Killers: A Tale of Two Kitties. #Cats #humor | In the Net! – Pictures and Stories of Life
I wouldn’t want to be a pet of yours. You’d rat (pun intended) me out in a minute. I still remember how you gave poor Piri up every chance you got. (And husbands in your household don’t fare much better.)
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At least I’m writing a book about the dog. (The Hub not so much…)
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I love this. Cats gonna cat, and bless them for it. Thanks for the laugh
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I am way behind in my reading and would eschew commenting until I catch up, but the mousie tale rang a memory bell for me. Way back last week, I saw a large mouse/very small rat under the squirrel feeder feasting on whatever had fallen off. I turned to my husband to call his attention to the unwelcome critter and asked what “we” should do about it. He looked pained. Then, from the corner of my eye I caught movement and turned to see feathered legs descending talons first. An owl, in broad gray light (Seattle, you know) made a grab and reversed direction with his catch. “Problem solved,” quipped John.
p.s. Retiring in 1.5 weeks
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My little killers would be so jealous.
Congratulations on the retirement!!!! 👏 🎉 🥳
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