Thursday, October 15, 2009

Lock up the Wildlife, Izzy's on the Loose

I'm thinking of changing Izzy's name to Dexter. Or maybe Ted Bundy.

That danged cat lives a double life. Most of the time he's so sweet and cuddly he'll knock you over for want of a snuggle. Then there's the feral hunter side that has already been well documented on this blog.

For a few days there's been a smell in the house. I couldn't figure out what it was, nor could I find it. At first, it was one of those elusive smells, just catching a hint of it. Then it grew a little stronger. I changed the litter box, carried out the garbage, searched around. Cleaned out the fridge and dumped everything that was over a month old. (Unfortunately, that was more than half the fridge's contents!) Last night I moved the couch just to see if there was a dead mouse stashed under there.

And yet, I couldn't find the source.

This afternoon I walked in the front door and was slammed in the sinuses by the noxious odor. It was an odor so foul you could almost taste it. It grabbed me by the nose and dragged me right to its source. There, on the floor of my craft room, lay the severed head of a squirrel.

I'll let that image sink in. Be grateful I didn't take pictures.

Decapitated. Squirrel. Head. In my house. Not a pretty sight. Poor little thing was probably out innocently burying his nuts for the winter when he was attacked. Probably never saw it coming.

Once I finished my gross-out dance and conquered the urge to vomit, I opened the window, donned a pair of rubber gloves, and tossed the thing out into the yard. I wanted to toss the rubber gloves out after it. And maybe the carpet, too! Grabbed carpet spray and saturated the area.

But, you're asking, how could you have missed that thing lying in the floor? I didn't. I swear. I had looked in every room, even under the beds, tables, and chairs trying to find the source of that smell. I think the evil little cat moved it out into the open yesterday while I was at work!

With the windows and doors opened, and the source of the smell removed, the house was habitable again.

All three cats met me in the kitchen, and thus began the following lecture:

"I feed you three plenty of food twice a day! There is NO REASON at all for you to go out and catch your own! NO MORE HUNTING! NO MORE BRINGING ANYTHING INTO THE HOUSE!! STOP DOING SUCH GROSS STUFF! IT'S DISGUSTING!"

All three just sat there in silence, watching the crazy lady rant in a language they couldn't understand.

All three got the lecture, but it was aimed at just one. He knows who he is.

(Here he is on top of the patio roof, looking for his next victim.)

1 comment:

  1. Another reason why I'm glad my boys are indoor cats. Then again, I've only see Plato kill a fly and that's because he wanted to touch it, but wasn't gentle enough. So that was death by accident.