(no subject)
So. This morning I'm playing Cave Story, minding my own business, with Dad chilling on the porch in the back, even though it just rained and the wooden chairs are still damp. Then suddenly I hear "hey, don't go in there! No!" and then Dad is yelling at me that the cat ran in with a dead mouse. So he asks me to go look for her since for some reason he can't get up and do it himself, not that I particularly mind but I don't understand what is so compelling about sitting in a damp wooden chair. But, even though she's the family cat, I think of Pandora as MINE since I named her and feed her and change her kitty litter, so taking care of her is MY responsibility and I do it willingly.
So I go down to the basement where Dad said Pandora went but I can't find her. So I make a cursory examination of every room in the house and I still can't find her. I'm a lousy searcher. I can spend half an hour looking for something that's right there on my desk in plain sight, so a black cat in a house filled with clutter? Not the easiest thing to spot, especially when she's not trying to hide. I say she's harder to find when she's not trying to hide because I know the places she hides in - underneath the coffee table, behind the sound-system, under my parents' bed. Anywhere that makes it harder for us to pick her up. Also, they're the sorts of places I would hide, if I was a svelte black cat.
So I go back outside and ask Dad is he sure she went into the house and he says positive she zipped down to the basement. So I go back down and I still can't find her but suddenly I hear this scraping noise. So I look in the laundry room where the kitty litter is and she's not in there, but I keep silent and still, and I hear the scraping noise again. I look toward the direction of the noise and there's a dead rodent on the ground, and a little black paw batting at it. Not the entire cat, just the paw. She'd been hiding under the tattered pink armchair that Minou made such a mess of back when she was alive, and she's just batting at the mouse, as if it's going to get up and move. So I use a broom and a dustpan to scoop up the mouse and dump it in the garbage outside and the cat follows me up to the top of the stairs and she didn't seem particularly upset, but Pandora has too much dignity to whine. When I go back in the house, Pandora's in the basement again so I go down to see her and I let her have the pointer finger, Pheonix Wright-style.
"NO GAME IN THE HOUSE!" I tell her. She licks my finger.
Don't tell her, or my family, but I'm proud that my Pandora is such an adept hunter.
So I go down to the basement where Dad said Pandora went but I can't find her. So I make a cursory examination of every room in the house and I still can't find her. I'm a lousy searcher. I can spend half an hour looking for something that's right there on my desk in plain sight, so a black cat in a house filled with clutter? Not the easiest thing to spot, especially when she's not trying to hide. I say she's harder to find when she's not trying to hide because I know the places she hides in - underneath the coffee table, behind the sound-system, under my parents' bed. Anywhere that makes it harder for us to pick her up. Also, they're the sorts of places I would hide, if I was a svelte black cat.
So I go back outside and ask Dad is he sure she went into the house and he says positive she zipped down to the basement. So I go back down and I still can't find her but suddenly I hear this scraping noise. So I look in the laundry room where the kitty litter is and she's not in there, but I keep silent and still, and I hear the scraping noise again. I look toward the direction of the noise and there's a dead rodent on the ground, and a little black paw batting at it. Not the entire cat, just the paw. She'd been hiding under the tattered pink armchair that Minou made such a mess of back when she was alive, and she's just batting at the mouse, as if it's going to get up and move. So I use a broom and a dustpan to scoop up the mouse and dump it in the garbage outside and the cat follows me up to the top of the stairs and she didn't seem particularly upset, but Pandora has too much dignity to whine. When I go back in the house, Pandora's in the basement again so I go down to see her and I let her have the pointer finger, Pheonix Wright-style.
"NO GAME IN THE HOUSE!" I tell her. She licks my finger.
Don't tell her, or my family, but I'm proud that my Pandora is such an adept hunter.