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Living in a house full of Dexter wannabes
Cat attack
erika_sanely
I think it's only fitting to write about the boys today. Or, as they are becoming known in my group of friends,

Some of you may remember the Duck Debacle of 2008. Since then, I have had 3 live mouse bought in*, found a dead parrot in the study, a live sparrow in the living room and most memorably almost stepped on a headless pigeon in the laundry.**

But Thursday... Thursday was a whole new low for the boys, Marley in particular. I was watching TV in my pyjamas, happy with life in general, when I hear this godawful scream outside. Scared the absolute crap outta me as it sounded almost like a small child getting stabbed. I jumped up, had a quick look outside, but I couldn't see anything. So, I assumed I had imagined it and went back to watching Glee. 5 minutes later the scream happened again, but this time it was much louder and it was followed by the familiar thump of a cat jumping through the laundry window and landing on the washing machine.

I got up from the lounge to investigate. (And considering the time of year, and the fact I love Supernatural, I should know by now that you should NEVER EVER investigate strange noises and blood curdling screams on your own. You will not like what you find.)

Marley was on the washing machine.
Marley was on the washing machine with a large grey furry lump in his mouth.
Marley was on the frickin' washing machine with a live baby rabbit.

I admit, I may have slightly freaked out. I am still very much emotionally scarred from the capture and unfortunate death of Jonah D Duck. I was not sure I could handle another cute baby animal having his life ultimately cut short by the evil instincts of a cat who has been put on a diet so the vet will stop insinuating that Marley is a fattyboombah when he isn't at all fat, but has a gut on him because of the cortisone injections and all the antibiotics he had to take when his mouth was a festering mess that smelt like a room full of farting 12 year old boys who have been playing football all day and have left their socks in your nasal cavities.

Sorry. I've digressed.

Anyway. Marley had indeed been huntin' and had found hisself a plump juicy baby rabbit for later. And by later he obviously thought later, but not too late as he dropped the poor frightened thing next to his food bowl. The bunny ran. I too, ran. However! I did indeed learn a thing or two from spending so long tracking and trying to catch the wayward duck. I first closed all doors, ensuring that the wild animal couldn't run and hide under any beds, and grabbed a clean pillow case from the linen cupboard. While I was doing this, Marley cornered the poor little thing, and the poor little thing proceeded to scream.

I hope with all my heart you never have the opportunity to hear a rabbit scream. It is the most chilling sound you will ever hear, and it will break your heart in a way you can't possibly imagine. A sound that frightened, and that loud, should never come out of anything that small.

The scream did what it was supposed to do though, and Marley backed away, which gave me the chance to throw the pillow on the rabbit and grab him before he could move. The poor little thing could fit into the palm of one hand. He was tiny.

I grabbed a smoke and a lighter, and went outside with the rabbit in my hand. Across the street is some bushland and it was the most logical place for the rabbit to have come from. I had to wait to cross the road as there were a few cars going passed, and I can only imagine what they thought I was doing; lit smoke in one hand, lumpy pillow case in the other and wearing only my flannelette blue check men's pyjama's. Yes, I am one classy broad. I released the rabbit and went back to my house where I stood guard. Y'see, once I had left the house with the rabbit both cats came out the front to try and grab it again. The boys do not, and have never liked me when I am outside, despite the fact they adore me and follow me around the house when I'm inside (seriously, I think they need some sort of medication for the problems they have), so my standing between them and the road was enough to put them off going after the rabbit. Once I finished my smoke, I went inside, the boys came in as well, and we went to bed. (I'm not ashamed to admit though that I had a cry and a rum first. The scream was that horrifying.)

Went to work the next day and told my enviro friend about my adventure. She was impressed with my corner/cover/capture skills, and told me that's pretty much what you do, and if I ever wanted to join the environmental department they'd be happy to have me. She did have a go at me again for having inside/outside cats instead of keeping them inside all the time. I can see her point, honestly I can. But where I live is a quiet street, and if I attempt to keep them inside Owen will scratch the walls trying to get outside (he has also worked out how to open one of the windows. He is willing to be locked in at night, but once I'm out of bed, he believes he should be allowed to wander outside.)

Of course, having these hunters living with me means if I ever wake to find a horse's head in bed with me my first thought will not be that the Mafia is after me. It will mean the boys have broken into a farm kilometres away from where I live, taken down a horse, and worked together to drag it head back. (If I ever have to write a post about that, I will probably be moving and not taking the cats with me, in fear that I shall one day displease them and they will kill me where I stand.)

Happy All Hallow's Eve.






*They were definately bought in by the boys, and didn't meander into the house of thier own accord. I know this, as for two of the three mice I was sitting in the living room when the cats jumped into the laundry window with the live rodent squeaking pittifully in their mouth before dropping it in the kitchen to play with later.

** I still believe that the headless pigeon was a mutant pigeon that it took both cats to kill and bring in. It was frickin' huge - even without a head - and the body just fitted onto the shovel I used to pick it up.

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