There are just some things in life that you appreciate: coming home busting for a wee, having your cat sitting on the stairs furiously miaowing 'hi mum, mum mum muuuum', running upstairs to your ensuite, doing your business, washing your hands, exiting the ensuite and walking downstairs to fix yourself a drink, then sitting down for five minutes. It's one of my favourite daily routines. Last Wednesday, somewhere between washing my hands and fixing a drink I came upon rather a nasty sight.
As I exited the ensuite I recoiled in horror as a beheaded... well a mostly be-bodied creature lay on my bedroom floor. To my disgust, Conan had caught a mouse and semi-devoured it, and it all slowly dawned upon me why he was miaowing so excitedly when I got home, and also why he was going nuts trying to get under the nursing chair in our bedroom the previous night.
This creature had just a tail left, and a few bulging internal organs (I'm guessing stomach, intestines, the usual bottom ones, I wasn't about to go at it with a toothpick to identify them!!) sticking out of what was left of his 'hind. Ew, ew and EW!!! So I had to gather the poor wee creature who was minus a skeleton, skin, head, feet, etc. and put him in a wee coffin (care of the pharmacy packaging). The whole time Conan the Destroyer was walking around proudly bunting my legs as if to tell me that I should be a proud mummy.
And to add insult to injury, I accidentally left our ensuite door open a crack the next day and he got hold of my superlong dusky pink knit jersey and made the too-short long sleeves even shorter. Oh great. A murderer and a kitty-couture designer all in one!
But when you wake up at 4;30am on a Sunday with a gut-ache, and your cat curls up next to your head and shoves his face under yours for a warm sleep, it really is hard to stay mad when they're so cute.
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