Living with a Killer

About 5:15 this morning Tiger wakes us with her special meow. The one that says, "I'm tracking my wounded prey for my amusement." The morning light doesn't illuminate the shadows enough for us to identify the silent victim, so we try to go back to sleep while hoping that whatever it is will not join us in bed.

Fifteen minutes later I climb out of bed to find that she's taken on one of the large moths - it would cover 1/2 my palm were I not to chicken to hold it - and is chasing it around the master bath. I dodge the moth while brushing my teeth, secretly cheering when it finds refuge behind the shutters of a window that, initially, seemed too high for Tiger to get to. I pray for the bug's escape, while being utterly unable to assist it, as well as for a quick death, if that is the critter's fate. She takes a break to come over to me, in hopes that I might giver he a little affection or turn the tap so she can drink from the faucet. Cheeky, as the Brits would say.

An hour later the bug is silent, yet Tiger is hopping up and somehow clininging to the bottom of the blinds, suspending herself - I don't know how, cand she get her claws into the drywall? I haven't checked on the bug.

When I moved in with Tiger, Marc mentioned that she would do this sort of thing. I didn't believe him. I've lived with cats and, yes, there is the occasional mouse and bird, but moths? lizards? He had to be joking. No - here on the edge of the delta, there seems to be more wildlife. She regularly brings in 3 inch lizards. Two nights ago she had one in the hall between the garage & kitchen. I saw her, then realized what she had and squealed. That set off the dogs - Austin running to my rescue by biting the lizard. 10 minutes later I mustered up the courage to check on the critter - one eye had popped out, yet hung by something.

The lizards I will save. Last week we chased off the Tiger & the dogs - the barkers get excited when I squeal - and we used an empty coffee tin to trap a gecko. Catch & release. I just can't muster the courage to help the bugs. Yesterday morning I went to pick up, what I thought was a blade or grass or thin leaf from the floor of the master bath, assuming it was something that Tsui had picked out of her, now mohawked, coat. Silly me. Marc laughed as I yelped and flung the detached tail across the room. The feel of the limp, rough, no mistaking what it ickiness was almost too much for me.

The bits are the worst - Tiger has a love for decapitation. I've cleaned up multiple headless bodies left about the house. She loses interest when they cease moving, it seems. I think she figures that the game is done and she's ready for some kitty treats.

I'll check for the bug remains tonight, after I've mustered up the courage - or, I'll ask Marc, if I haven't stealed my stomach.