My Little Hunter

Izzy has an insane number of fake fur mice (32 at last count) at his disposal. I was keeping them in a bowl to dole out one at a time. I say "was" because last night the poor bowl hit the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces. Izzy had learned how to get up on the table and get his own mouse, which he would then drop on the floor, leap down after and stalk and attack it until it was lost under a piece of furniture. Then he'd get back on the table and get another mouse. But for some reason last night he decided to push the whole bowl off onto the floor. I took all his mice away from him in punishment. I guess that's why he went out and found his own plaything tonight.

I was innocently lying in bed reading a book and looked up to see him playing with something at the foot of the bed. He looked at me and I swear he gave me a smug little kitty smile. At first I thought his toy was the strap of the discarded bra lying next to him. Nope. It was a snake. And it was alive!

It was only about six inches long and not moving very fast, but I leapt out of bed, grabbed it by the head, held it at arm's length, and carried it out the back door. All the way there I was chanting "eww, eww, eww!" Izzy was in step the entire way, looking disappointed that I wasn't as excited about his new toy as he was. I tossed the snake into the yard and started hoping I would never see it again.

Izzy's really getting into the whole hunting thing and thinks he needs to bring me the results of his feline prowess. He's surprised me outside with a dead garter snake, dragged a dead bird in through the cat door, stalked the poor little frog on the back porch, and I'm pretty sure he's the one responsible for the severed mouse head in the kitchen floor.

Just the other day I chased him around the yard to rescue a baby bird from his grasp. He growled at me and ran like mad with that poor little bird squawking like crazy. I have a rule that if the creature is still alive, I have to rescue it. His pride in having caught the fledgling robin was replaced with anger when I took it away. (Of course, the danged bird bit me, but that's the thanks I get!)

Izzy's finally returned to the bedroom. I guess he gave up on trying to find his latest toy. But I'm sure there'll be another one. I just wish he'd go after that danged mole that's chewing up my lawn. In the meantime I guess I have to give him back his furry mice.