So I didn't really think my Easter Sunday was going to be that exciting. Mainly because my family does the pagan thing of chocolate Easter eggs rather than the church, Jesus and colouring hard boiled eggs thing. When I was little it just used to be a miniature Easter egg hunt where our chocolate was strategically hidden throughout one room of the house and we must hunt for it. Like the Hunger Games, except without the teen romance, deadly arena and with more chocolate.
LITTLE DID WE KNOW that when we sat down to eat our hot cross buns, croissants and chocolate eggs that our cat would want to participate in the celebration.
With a mouse.
And not just a dead mouse, oh no, this mouse was alive and kicking. We were just thankful he didn't bring up a rat like the last three times. But before I explain what happened, here's some background on the little furry s**t-head that is my cat.
Yes I own a cat. Ah, well technically I possess a cat, I didn't really
buy him. But I didn't steal him either. He just kind of appeared one day
and then didn't leave so we fed him and now he stays here. Probably a
bad mistake 'cause my kitty is f**kin' messed up, yo.
I didn't really
want to write about my cat, ever, because people who constantly talk
about their cats usually have mental, social and sexual problems I
cannot comprehend. However, this little guy has been acting kind of weird
When we first got Mr. Fluffypants we
fed him way too much. Every time he walked into the kitchen we gave him
food. It didn't help that there were five people living in the house at the
time and we all assumed we were the only ones feeding him. Results = He
got faaaaaaaaaat. Like Fat Albert fat. Peter Griffin fat. Jabba the Hut
fat. He got so fat he couldn't fit through his cat door and one day tore
it out of its frame. He would stare at the stairs with outright contempt
and wait for someone to carry him up. He also dragged himself onto
chairs rather than jumping (which he wasn't really capable of doing any more).
So we put him on a diet, and over the last year he's started to get some of his old energy back. Which he has demonstrated by catching prey. At first it was just a disembowelled gecko or so, then a couple of giant grasshoppers with missing limbs. But, when my birthday came along, I awoke to a present I was not expecting. A giant dead rat. Sitting on the carpet. Right next to my other presents. Hot diggity, how did he know I've always wanted a dead rat?
That's not a really strange occurrence with most cats. The proper procedure is to pat them on the head, give them some food and tell them what a "good little hunter" they are. Because in reality they are sharing their kill with the leader of their family. You should feel honoured your kitty wants to share its food with you, not disgusted!
The strange part of this is that my cat will only bring up a mouse on special occasions. Seriously. He brought one up on Christmas. He brought one up for my brother's birthday. He even brought one up to celebrate the new year. And ever time he brings it up, he always dumps it in the dining room. Smart kitty.
Today he brought one up for Easter. But this one was alive. And I'm starting to realise why people think cats are so evil. Oh man he toyed with that poor little mouse like it was a furry ping pong ball. And he wasn't even trying that hard. Until the mouse crawled into a little part of the dining room table that he couldn't get to. So for a few hours he just sat there, waiting. He would have waited there forever if my mother hadn't been grossed out at the idea of eating dinner with a mouse INSIDE our table.
So out comes a coat hanger and a plastic bag and as my father and I get to work, my mother tries to ignore us. Until she can't take the yelps coming from the dining room any longer and decides to watch as my cat, my father AND myself are all under the table trying to corner the poor critter and get him out so our cat can finish him off. The whole time Kitty is just sitting there purring his little head off because he gets to play with his family.
In the end we got the little guy out, and I shall speak no more of his end. We had a good laugh, rewarded the cat for doing such a good job, and went about our business. Happy Easter to us.
But I'm going to keep a closer eye on my cat. He's smarter than I thought. And despite his age, and possible cat dementia, I have the feeling he could actually kill me if he put some effort into.
Thankfully he's still too lazy too. Woo!
Any-who, Happy Easter, enjoy your short break, yada yada yada, chocolate.