Monday, March 17, 2008

The War In Irat

Let me tell you a little bit about Fat Kitty. She is a refugee that I gave shelter to when the lady across the street moved out and left her behind. Her real name is Alien, but I just call her Fat Kitty. Fat Kitty has some kind of nerve disorder causing her to shake like Katherine Hepburn, and walk in a funny hippity hop way. When she wants food or just some attention, she stands up on her little table outside the living room and beats on the window. She's very loving and on top of all that, she isn't afraid of Molly. I would not expect this fat, shaky cat to be a good ratter. No, Fat Kitty is more like a furry door stop.

The other night I was sitting in my office with the windows open, and I heard a sudden crashing in the garden, then some squeals, and then some more noises. It scared the hell out of me. Armed with the largest flashlight I have, I slowly moved out of the house and back to the garden by the shed. I shined the light into the flowers, and there was Fat Kitty, her eyes aglow with a very large rat in her mouth, struggling to get free. Fat Kitty shot a look at me like, "Turn that damn light off fool, I'm working here". I turned it off and high-tailed it back towards the house, with sounds of the death struggle still unfolding behind me. I never would have guessed she was capable of this. Normally Fat Kitty sits around quietly and watches as possums, raccoons, and other cats come and eat her food, without protest. She's very mellow.

In the morning I went out and Fat Kitty was snoozing peacefully on a chair, the dead rat neatly arranged on the deck like a hunters trophy, which of course it was. Needless to say, Fat Kitty got an extra ration of kitty treats and a good head scratching.

1 comment:

  1. I am impressed that you actually ventured out into the dark yard... knowing that alligators abound in Florida!! Our late dog, Annie, was quite the hunter. When she was a puppy she jumped a 5 ft fence and caught a squirrel before it got up a tree. She caught and killed a skunk who ventured into the dog-yard (phewwww), and the possum she caught was gone when we came back with a shovel and trash bag! She just wasn't much of a "mouser".

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