Sue, Thank you kitties?

At least they're catching them, I guess. They've gotten lots of praise. Well Clio has, because I'm pretty sure she's the hunter. But she still won't give up the location of the rest of the mouse.

And, I've checked my bed already.

Tonight I found part of a mouse in my hallway.

A few years ago, we were participating in our neighborhood's program to give people light bulbs for their porch lights, with the idea that houses with porch lights on after dark are less likely to be burglarized (though I don't know if that's true, and that's not my point anyway).

We found on the steps of one house -- just a mouse head. It was like a tiny Godfather tableau for, say, a dollhouse.

My mom once found a headless mouse laid out on a stepping stone in her front yard like a sacrifice. Cats have creepy aesthetics.

Same mouse. Got splinched trying to apparate.

My elderly cat got accidentally locked out on the deck two summers ago, and disappeared for four days. She had never been outside in this city/neighborhood before so I was really scared she wouldn't find her way back.

On day 2 I found a headless mouse behind the building and knew I didn't need to worry.

Just offering you the best bits!

I'm not so sure my current crew would be any good at mousing. They kinda suck at even killing bugs. Counting on their scent to strike fear in rodential hearts.

Devi was my predator. She never ate one, just played with them to death. And brought me their corpses when they got boring. Including to my bed. (I was supposed to toss them like her toys, I guess?)

Pumpkin is snoring-purring tonight. I am so thankful we found her and my mother gave her a damned name. She came at the right time. And in ways, she's ...not filled, but put buffers around, holes that Devi left. She's a conversationalist and definitely a demanding cat (not that Loki isn't, but Loki is puppy-dorkus-pushy. Pumpkin and the late Devi are fuck-you-selfish-cat pushy.)

A friend's cat would neatly line up squirrels' tails on her front porch.

Poor mousies.

I need to start telling some Gracie stories. She's going to die soon. My friend Carla saw her recently after not seeing her for a year or so (in part because G flees from any and all unexpected humans) and was pretty sure the end is near. I can see it too.

We got her as a kitten from the Wisconsin Humane Society as an Xmas present for my sister, who was in middle school. (She'll be 34 in a couple of months.) That first week I kept her secreted in my bedroom in the attic. I had to sleep with the quilt tucked in around every bit of my body because she was a fucking biter at night.

Post-kitten, she was a seriously committed outdoor hunter style cat. She was really bonded with my sister and would sleep with her but was mostly outdoors and didn't come home a lot of nights - she'd come cuddle with my sister for a while and then be yowling to go out. When she came in we'd feed her a ton, and if you called her she was usually nearby, but very independent. Pieces and parts of local rodents or birds would be seen - though unlike another of our cats, she didn't usually bring them in.

Eventually my sister went off to college and she became my parent's cat. She got a little more comfortable with other people, anyway.

My favorite Gracie moment: I opened the back door to let her in but she looked a little funny. She's a sleek black cat, about 7 or 8 pounds. But she looked a little jowly. And also she was giving me devil eyes. I knew something was off so I picked her up and gave her a shake.

A bird popped out. A whole, live, apparently unhurt bird. It flipped around a little and then flew out the door. The lightning strikes Gracie tried to called down on my head (judging by her expression) have yet to materialize, but...