Apparently her mother must have taught her well, because she continues to hone her technique every day when it's above freezing outside. We've gotten used to the various mouse and chipmunk and even occasional bird carcasses on the garage steps. Even the bloody remnants of such don't phase me anymore. We just put whatever's left in the trash can, because it's usually not much anyway. Girl doesn't kill just for sport, she eats it every time, despite the fact that she's grossly well-fed by us.
But this morning when I let her out, I didn't expect her to show up at the back porch door carrying some sort of furry creature ten minutes later. Initially it looked like a hedgehog, with it's dark hair ticked with cream. When she saw me and dropped her offering, I saw the ears - a small wild bunny. It wasn't a baby, but it wasn't a full-grown adult either, which means there are probably still more of them out there for her to mow down. Usually when she brings us her kill I just scratch her ears and let her inside so I can get rid of it without her seeing. But today I couldn't keep her inside. She kept escaping and walking around it, stepping over it, sniffing it, pawing at it. I ended up cuffing her ear a couple of times to get her away from it so I could pick it up with the shovel and take it back to the woods to bury it. Luckily, after I picked it up, she lost interest and went off to find something else to hunt while I cursed the ground for being so damn hard and full of rocks. The grave ended up being about ten inches deep because the shovel refused to go any further. I'm sure Soldier could have done better with his manly biceps and muscular back but he's at work and this had to be dealt with before the kids saw it. The last thing I need is a houseful of children traumatized by the spoils of the seemingly-sweet-as-pie cat's morning affairs.
I'm still kind of traumatized myself. That bunny was a little of over half the size of my cat herself. It's poor sweet little body was so limp it almost brought me to tears. I don't have much sympathy for the mice or birds because frankly, I don't much care for either, but bunnies are such precious, soft little innocents that I found this morning's hunt rather wanton and heartless, although I'm sure that's not how my cat saw it. She saw what amounted to a Christmas ham, for her. But there was no way I was going to allow her to tear into it; I'm just glad I happened to see it before she had the chance.
It's all part of country life, I suppose, but not the best way to start your morning.
