By Diane Ako
Ocho, my domesticated feline, is up to catching her own dinner again. One day recently, we woke up and found a small cluster of feathers in the garage. She comes and goes into the garage as she pleases.
There were little downy chest feathers and a few wing pieces with bloody nubs. That confirmed for me that she had murdered an unfortunate zebra dove overnight in our garage.
It was Olivia who found it, and she came yelling back into the house for us to come look! at the bird bits! all over the ground! Look look look!!
She is six and thinks it's way cool to see blood and guts. She marveled at it for a while until I reminded her to go in and get ready for school. Yes, it was that early in the morning to be dealing with life and death issues.
When I went to sweep up the mess (Housewife= my job to tend the home) (love it; not complaining) I found that the bloodiest wing piece had actually dried itself to the ground, and as I swept it towards the dust bin, it hung on with one long vein. Like a yo yo, but disgustinger.
I let out a long and anguished cry of repulsion that I now had to get closer to this meaty bit by picking it up with a napkin.
Olivia had come back out and was watching my misery with much amusement. My wailing about this yucky development just made her bust out in peals of laughter.
I'm so glad this all exists for her entertainment.
Claus then joined her outside and also started pointed and laughing at me.
My family. *sigh + eye roll*
The cat was actually licking its mouth and watching with the usual cat disinterest. No wonder she was not eagerly waiting outside the screen door this morning with her usual nonstop yowls for food.
I cleaned it, I bleached the bloody spot, and now I'm worried that the rest of the bird is elsewhere in the garage or the garage loft, which the cat has figured out how to jump into.
We keep all our storage items in the loft so it would really suck to find a desiccated bird up there months from now. It would actually suck more to find a rotting, smelly, insect-ridden corpse lingering in the corner of the garage some days from now. UGH.
What do cats normally do with the dead body? Where do they eat it? I didn't find the rest of the bird upon a cursory inspection. Any thoughts from the blogosphere?
Ocho is a feral cat. I got her from the parking lot of KHNL8 (hence the name Ocho = 8) when she was a few months old. She had learned to hunt and (city cat) to forage in trash cans for food.
Her cushy life with us bipeds broke her for many years of her birding and rummaging habit, and for the last five years or more, she has not caught anything noteworthy I can recall (past the errant gecko or large cockroach.)
She will be eleven this year and I guess the old girl still has it in her to hunt and kill. I just hope she does most of her killing outside where I don't have to clean up after her.