A couple posts back, here, I wrote about my cat, Sasha: she who lives on my back porch and reigns supreme in the fenced back yard. As I mentioned, she is a shy sweetie.
But Sasha is much more than that. She is a killing machine….
At my back door I often find little offerings of small animals, laid like little sacrifices on the altar of the cat-food-bringer. Usually they are birds or mice. Occasionally there will be a small rabbit. As disgusting as this is to me, I realize that these are tokens of Sasha’s affection. Just doing her part…
Tonight I heard a little distress call from my back porch just outside my bedroom window, and I knew that Sasha was, again, plying her skill. Artemis of the back yard.
The sound raises my blood pressure a bit—like hearing a crying baby. I can’t tell for sure what type of animal is in Sasha’s clutches, but I can tell that it is too late for me to do it any good. The cries are weak and I know from experience that if I open my back door, Sasha will disappear with her trophy into the darkness of the night.
No, may as well let nature take its grim course.
But, as I heard the little cry, it occurred to me that it sounds exactly like a pet squeaky toy. I have often been curious as to why my dogs and cat were attracted to that squeaky sound, perking right up and pricking their ears when I’d squeeze their toys. Now I know…it sounds like prey distress.
Whew! Nature’s tough!