Mojo in the yard, waiting for prey.
I'm a dog person. I've never been a cat fan. The only reason I even have a cat is that when I was visiting Bambi 10 years ago, Mojo (who'd been recently saved from death at a shelter) was being abused by another cat in the house. Mojo insisted on sleeping with me while I was there, and she won me over. I took her home on the plane in a box.
It hasn't always easy for Mojo. Over the years, she's had to put up with a houseful of dogs and, for the first few years, she didn't get nearly enough attention. Then, somehow, she won me over - she's an absolutely amazing cat.
There's only one thing ... she likes to kill mice and then leave them around the house (she manages this even though her original asshole owners had her front claws yanked out). Despite the fact that dead mice in the house completely grosses me out, I reward her behavior because live mice in the house is even worse. I'm glad she keeps them away.
This morning, however, was a bit much. I'm walking to the bathroom - in bare feet - when I step on something and feel two sensations: liquid, and the crunching of tiny bones.
Yes, Mojo had left a mouse in the hall. I almost threw up on the spot, and I couldn't get the residue off me fast enough (I hope both Fantastik and 409 sprayed directly on the skin don't cause a rash ... so far, so good).
I would have gingerly collected dead mousie and thrown him away on the spot, but I must confess that I chose another route. Thanks to the influence of one of my favorite websites (www.whatjeffkilled.com), I carried him outside and took detailed autopsy photos. (Said photos are down below - do not scroll down if you don't want to see them. Seriously. They're pretty disgusting.)
Jeff is a huge orange cat who wandered into the lives of three people who live here in Southern California. He doesn't live in the house, but he considers their property his. Jeff also happens to be a killing machine who catches a wide variety of critters (mice, squirrels, snakes, lizards, even rabbits - I wouldn't be surprised if Jeff took down a coyote). After decapitating and disembowling his kills, Jeff eats everything but the head. He kills so often - and so publicly - that Jeff's caretakers started photographing him in action ... and then they made him a website.
Even better than the photos is the writer's unbridled glee. "Poor bunny," it will say under a photo of Jeff killing a rabbit. "Poor, poor bunny" it will say as Jeff begins to dismember it. "Delicious bunny," it will say as Jeff begins to eat.
I know ... it's disgusting. It's wrong. It's repulsive. It's terrible.
And it's great.
Jeff has become incredibly popular, and even has a Myspace page and an Amazon wish list (it's 100% cat products). For those who object to anything Jeff-related, there's a wonderful bit of writing in the website's FAQ that puts the entire exercise in perspective. You should read it.
For me personally, there's a delightful side benefit to all this feline carnage. After stepping on a dead mouse today and then photographing it, I couldn't even think about eating for hours. I feel the same way after looking at whatjeffkilled.com - food becomes the farthest thing from my mind.
Today was the day I chose to kick my ass back on track with the diet, and I did very well. I clocked in at 24 points (26 is my maximum), and tomorrow is going to be just as low and will also include both exercise and 64 ounces of water. I feel more excited about the diet than I have in a long time. I firmly believe the Harvest Moon had something to do with it, but so did Mojo and Jeff.
See that? Cats aren't so bad.
5 comments:
Now I understand the saying "look what the cat dragged in" (well, not sure if that's aussie slang, but I wasn't aware of this feline behaviour, as I've never owned a cat)... certainly doesn't do much for one's appetite!
Mojo brought your mojo back!! Glad to hear you're back on track Karen!
alex
You know, ya shoulda posted a warning, not just about the pictures, but about that descriptive passage! Bleh! Now I'm off *my* breakfast as well.
ESM
I think I am going to be sick. Maybe you should market this new diet idea.
I grew up with a cat who was a PHENOMINAL mouser. When we moved into a house that had been vacant for several months, the poor cat got no sleep for the first two weeks and clocked in at 26 mice (she tried to claim 27 but was disqualified because the mouse she carried in was dangling from a trap that had gotten it first). She was so good, she took requests: a family friend joked that the cat should find something for her pet boa constrictor to eat. The next morning we found, lined up on the back porch, a field mouse, a small kangaroo rat, and a large rat. Apparently she wasn't sure what size she was expected to return with.
But thankfully she rarely shared her kills with the family. Her biggest joy was bringing in dismembered lizard tails. She loved to catch lizards, snap off their tails, and bring them in to play with, since they continue to flop around for some time. Gross.
The cat has since gone on to that big, fluffy pile of warm laundry in the sky, after 20 years of successful mousing, and she is missed greatly. But I do not miss finding the still-twitching lizard tails in such places as my shoes, my closet, and in my bed. Ick.
Our cat used to catch mice and eat everything but one or two internal organs. Those he'd leave somewhere for us to squish between our toes. Good times, good times.
Great post. :)
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