Only the other night, Mr. Waffle was expressing the mildest affection for the cat. Of course, that just invited what follows.
Shortly thereafter I was dropping the babysitter, M, home. “How was it?” I asked. “Fine,” she replied, “there was just one thing.” Apparently, as the Princess was playing Club Penguin, the cat came into the room with a pigeon clutched between her jaws. M saw the cat playing with something but didn’t notice what until feathers began to float around the room. With great self-possession, M did not squeal, as I would certainly have done. She left the Princess playing Club Penguin and unaware of the drama and, to the cat’s consternation, picked up the bird with a cloth (note to self – where is that cloth?) and chucked it out the back door. The cat followed and continued to play with the corpse outside. M was force to put the dead pigeon in the bin in a plastic bag. Apparently, it was a fully grown pigeon. Since Hodge is not a fully grown cat, I do wonder whether she would be able to bring down a big pigeon. I can’t help fearing that she found a dead pigeon somewhere and this is not going to be good for her health or ours.
The following morning when I came downstairs, Mr. Waffle had thrown the sofa cover in the wash. Apparently the cat had coughed up a hair/feather ball on it. Lovely. When I left for work the cat was lying on the Princess’s bed enjoying the morning sunshine looking like pigeon wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
i have no comment, other than this post made me laugh!
When I read the first line, I had to scroll right to the end to make sure the cat was ok. Now I can breathe again. Princess displayed royal resourcefulnes, and pigeons need to be kept down.
Sorry. Misread M as Princess. Oops.
Pigeon much much much better than rat, surely
Thank you, Diana, I can almost laugh myself now that the binmen have taken away the body.
Cat more than fine, QoP, very smug.
Thank you for that thought H.
Cats look so cute and furry, and then they remind you what they really are by ripping up some little furry or feathery thing. At least it wasn’t a baby rabbit.
Cats look so delicate and demure, and then they remind you what they really are by ripping up some little furry or feathery thing. At least it wasn’t a baby rabbit.
You got away lightly with a dead pigeon As Dot said it could have been a live rabbit.
Or a live flapping and squawking adult male pheasant, like my aunt woke up to one morning (Tiggy was a legend in her own nine lifetimes).
Oh, Dot, a baby rabbit, the horror. A pheasant is kind of impressive though. I can’t see Hodge bringing down many of those in the inner city, alas.