Dear Domestic Feline:
I know it was you who left what could have been mistaken for an owl
pellet in the middle of the living room floor for me to discover as I
was battening down the hatches for the night. As I sifted through said
pellet, I realized it was actually a jumble of fur and bone too mangled
to fully recognize as the mouse it once was. I know it was also you who
just last week brought in another dead, deflated, dehydrated mouse. Your antics of tossing it jubilantly in the air and pouncing on it gave you away.
I realize that you alone possess sharp claws and hideous fangs and that
you are capable of death and destruction. Exhibit A: the back of the
couch. I realize that every night I sleep prone and vulnerable while you
roam with your concealed carry weapons in search of your next conquest.
What you fail to realize is that I am much larger than you. Due to our
sheer size difference, the chances of you subduing and conquering me are
slim to none. What you also fail to realize is that I know how to open
up the magic closet that contains cans and bags of tasty tidbits you
call food. It is I who retrieves this food and stocks that closet for
your pleasure and nourishment.
It is because of all of these
things that I ask you to refrain from leaving anything resembling a
mouse carcass in the living room. Simply put, please, stop bringing in
dead mice from the garage. Better yet, feel free to eat as many dead
mice as your little heart desires.
I'm glad we've had this
little talk because if I see any more mice miscellany, I may forget how
to open the cans from the magic closet, and stray mice that happen into
the garage may be your only recompense. Good luck with those claws and
Some Good News and Some Bad News
2 years ago