"Love to eat those mousies, mousies what I love to eat. Bite their little heads off, nibble on their tiny feet!"
My cat, aka Kipper, is now a killer! He's made it to the ripe old age of 18 without ever killing any mice or any other mammal. The greatest he had ever caught had eight legs. Now he's singing a new tune. I saw a mouse run across our kitchen floor yesterday afternoon. He ran from the old wood stove to the cupboard under the kitchen sink. I suspected we had a little critter around as Kipper was keeping his nose pointed at the kitchen sink and once in a while, he'd crouch and creep around the kitchen, sniffing in the corners. Anyway, when I saw the little grey mouse yesterday, Kipper saw it too, but he was much, much too slow to do it any harm. Or so I thought. We left to go to dinner last night and all was quiet in the house. When we returned, the carnage was evident. There was a large blood splatter around a yellow mouse stomach in the middle of the kitchen floor. My elderly cat had finally done it -- he caught and ate his first kill. He was a proud little cat, he was.
Labels: kipper






