Kitty

I don't come from a cat family. We were a dog family. My mother hated cats and while my dad liked them well enough, he was always more of a dog person. Pop never wanted to have a pet that wouldn't come every time you called it.

My son is and always has been a cat person; his father is a cat person that comes from a long line of cat people. Dan wanted a cat all his life and I said no all his life, with every move, "because we live in an apartment and we're not allowed to have a cat". When we bought this house, the apartment excuse was dead in the water of course. I should have thought it out better....but how in God's name was I to know I'd buy a house at age 42, when that kid was a sophomore in high school?

To do his share for the family, kitty has occasionally left us his little "contributions" over the past four years; a plump little mouse here, a tiny baby mole there....usually outside the back door to make sure we know it's from him.

Eewww.

This summer kitty kicked it up a notch. I'm not sure whether he's getting better at hunting or what, but one night he came swinging through the yard with a baby chipmunk in his mouth. I was horrified. I ran to the house ahead of him and barrelled in the back door, slamming the storm door in his startled little face. Poor bastard....he was all proud of his hunter-killer instincts and there I was in tears, telling him through the glass, "Mama loves you kitty and she's very very proud of you....now take that little chippy and put him back wherever you found him. Go on....good cat....go on." And kitty was all WTF??

Kitty's finale was the week of the 4th of July, while my son was home from school. There was a mouse or mole (or half of one....eewwww) at our door every single day that week. It was gruesome. He even brought us a baby bird that turned out to be sill barely alive....which we found out when it tried to escape by flying up the girlfriend's skirt. Good times.

Since Dan went back to school, there have been no tiny dead animals on my doorstep. It was obvious that kitty was tying to impress him and not me...but c'mon...what am I? Chopped liver? I'm just the one who cleans your dang litter box and feeds you and pays your vet bills and buys your dang Frontline and keeps you in cat toys and lets you sleep in my bed. Gawd.

So one night last week, after a loooong and frustrating day, I found half a baby mole (the tail end....eewwww) on the sidewalk between the garage and the house.

Kitty threw me a bone. So to speak.