We had a landmark moment the other day: Cat caught a mouse.
It was her first mouse, she was very proud. I suppose. I mean I guess she was
proud of it, she brought it home to show us. She had no idea what to do with
it, except bring it home to show her people that she’d caught a mouse. She did
her job as a cat: catch mice. Yay? (I thought her job was to warm my lap and purr, but Hubby corrected me.)
Anyway, it was cause for celebration. After some discussion
on Google Plus, it was decided that I should go so far as to bake a cake in
honor of the event. It was chocolate if anyone’s interested. German chocolate
with that caramel-coconut frosting because I like that stuff and was in the
mood for it. Wait, no, because Cat likes it - it’s her favorite.
When The Girl found out about the mouse, surprisingly she
didn’t fuss. She did go get some of Cat’s kitty treats that are supposed to help
her breath and practically force fed them to her. The Boy just nodded in
passing on his way to the Xbox where he proceeded to kill zombies. Cat joined
him later in support of the cause.
So, there you go. Our cat is growing up. She apparently
isn’t completely neurotic despite being told she’s going to be fed to a fox,
although she’s still home every night before dark (good kitty). The HOA hasn’t caught on to her
wandering outside of our yard yet, or hasn’t figured out where this little
black cat lives to send us a letter. I keep waiting and crossing my fingers.
The foxes or The HOA - who will see
Cat first? (Or the four little Chihuahuas
down the street. She likes to tease and work them into a frenzy. Remember I
said there weren’t any barking dogs? Yeah, until Cat met them. Sigh.)
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