There is an ancient superstition amongst war-like cultures that by devouring the heart of a recently slain foe a warrior could gain their strength. Whether this was true or the resulting increase in strength was the conclusion drawn by soldiers whose next opponents were scared out of their minds on finding themselves staring down a sword-wielding cannibal with a face and chest smeared in the blood of what used to be their best friend has never been conclusively determined either way.Regardless of the superstition's validity, it seems to be alive and well in feline culture. The events of the last twelve hours are proof of that.
As with all great stories, this one starts at the beginning. Specifically, 9:13PM when I hear mewling. If you've been following along with Cat's exploits, you can likely guess what that means. Recognizing the familiar sound, but thinking it was FAR too early for it to be a dead mouse -- "Cat hunts at night, not during Gossip Girl," I thought -- I opened my door to see Cat delightedly crushing another mouse's skull betwixt jaws smeared with entrails, blood and formerly twitch-happy whiskers.
I sighed, took pictures for you all, then began the grisly task of taking Cat's trophy, and disposing of it via the suction of the toilet bowl. It's like St. Peter for the rodent set. Every time a toilet flushes, an angel gets its wings, or some such shit.Pun.
While sending the mouse -- let's call him Mickey for giggles -- to the Great Urinal In The Sky, I noticed something odd about this kill. I don't mean "odd" like "we're going to need to call Lennie Briscoe in on this one"-type odd, no, I mean "Cat only ate one part of Mickey, his brain" odd. I didn't realize that Cat found Cerveau De Souris to be a delicacy, but it would explain why I'm always finding her crunching away on skulls, and so rarely tearing off pieces of shoulder or flank.
Or perhaps there's another reason. Let's jump ahead about 7 hours.
Circa 3:00 AM this morning, I hear mewling. Not "Father, I've brought you a dead animal as a present, please come see it while I eat parts of it to show you how awesome I am both as a hunter, and your best friend" mewling. No, this was a type of mewling I'd never heard before.
Cautiously, stepping out into my hallway and flipping on a light, I noticed something else that was odd: The hall was empty. Usually when Cat calls to me she's standing right outside my door. As if to wash away any confusion splattered across my face, it was at this moment that Cat mewled again, pointing out to me that she was actually in my bathroom. I opened the door, flipped on the light and realized immediately what she's wanted me to see.
Cat has learned (most likely aided by all that brain she ate earlier in the day) how to drink from the toilet!This may not seem that impressive compared to the construction of the Hubble Space Telescope, but I'm still quite amazed that Cat found her own unending source of water. Taken alongside her propensity for killing and devouring small animals seemingly at will, and this is further proof that Cat no longer needs me.
I expect to wake up quite dead tomorrow morning. Good night friends.
