Attila the Hunter
When we adopted Phineas earlier this year the agency had named him Attila. Ha, we thought. What a ferocious name for a schmitten so round and fluffy.
But a few months under the tutelage of our other adult male cats and Phineas is earning the name Attila - not with us, but with the community of woodland creatures who apparently live near us. In the past few days he has captured four rats, countless geckos, junebugs, locusts, moths and birds. In most cases he brings them in the house, usually preceded by a very proud, wailing mew.
The bloodbath has gotten so bad that last week I actually had to bathe the cat because his underbelly, which is covered with a long, thick coat, was sticky with blood and ... organs. Or bits of organs. He looked like a sloppy vampire.
This morning he was lolling awkwardly in the corner of the living room underneath a chair, a position that indicated he had something trapped. Sure enough, either a mouse king or a baby rat was in the corner. And just like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, Phineas was callously toying with it. He would let it run a couple of inches before stepping on its tail. Then he would release the tail only to stop the mouse with his paw. With my interference the poor thing escaped into a basket of stuffed animals, which I then carried out to the porch.
Thank goodness I'm not afraid of rodents. In the past week I have scooped up dead ones, pulled live ones out of the house by their tail and even had an anxious one run across my feet while I was shooshing it out the door with a broom. My mother would be proud ... and repulsed.
Good thing he doesn't bring in spiders.
But a few months under the tutelage of our other adult male cats and Phineas is earning the name Attila - not with us, but with the community of woodland creatures who apparently live near us. In the past few days he has captured four rats, countless geckos, junebugs, locusts, moths and birds. In most cases he brings them in the house, usually preceded by a very proud, wailing mew.
The bloodbath has gotten so bad that last week I actually had to bathe the cat because his underbelly, which is covered with a long, thick coat, was sticky with blood and ... organs. Or bits of organs. He looked like a sloppy vampire.
This morning he was lolling awkwardly in the corner of the living room underneath a chair, a position that indicated he had something trapped. Sure enough, either a mouse king or a baby rat was in the corner. And just like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, Phineas was callously toying with it. He would let it run a couple of inches before stepping on its tail. Then he would release the tail only to stop the mouse with his paw. With my interference the poor thing escaped into a basket of stuffed animals, which I then carried out to the porch.
Thank goodness I'm not afraid of rodents. In the past week I have scooped up dead ones, pulled live ones out of the house by their tail and even had an anxious one run across my feet while I was shooshing it out the door with a broom. My mother would be proud ... and repulsed.
Good thing he doesn't bring in spiders.
posted by Romine Family at 10:53 AM
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