she's a killer

Caution - for anyone reading this who has a weak stomach - skip this one.
You see - there's nothing like the smell of entrails in the morning. Well, really - they didn't smell at all, out on the porch in the damp breeze. But the sight was quite a shock. I won't describe it in detail. Let's just say - way too big for a mouse - and not, well, I know not a rabbit. (see post about the farm.) I'm feeling all CSI about this - decoding clues.

So, we have entrails, and blood spots - just two really, dry, and bright red.

(aside - I always thought that the CSI, Bones, whatever, scenes where the blood is still bright red were so fake - they should be burgundy or bronze, or even dull brown at an hours-old murder scene. But no, these were dry, but bright, crimson, cherry, red.)

So we have entrails, and blood, but what drew me to the porch to begin with were tiny drifting puffs of fur. Not cat or dog hair, which I know intimately from the froths that fly up when I pet the cat, and from the random smattering left on my clothes after the dog, who I thought was not shedding, gets off my lap. (oooo CSI again) No, these were wild-animal colored, smaller than my smallest fingernail, softer even than my cat, and not attached to - anything (Thank God!) I reached down to pick up one, then another, then I suddenly saw a dozen, no, twenty fluffs in the wind or against the screen. And then I saw the entrails.

She's a killer.

I knew this.

My cat has brought me several presents over the last year. It started with whole, unmarked, tiny shrews, left on the mat outside the kitchen door on the porch. I was proud of her - I think an animal needs to express its instincts. Cats hunt. That's how they live. And she was giving me gifts of her love, of her skill. They do that. I was proud.

Then, unfortunately, only half of a shrew. Then, half of something else - I think it may have been a flying squirrel - its tail was long and fluffy - but not as long or as thick as a squirrel - perhaps a baby squirrel? No, I raised a baby squirrel once - and its tail, even when it was small, was relatively long and fluffy.

Then, more unfortunately, half of something else. Judging only by the haunches and long tail - maybe a baby rat. But the tail wasn't really a rat's tail. It had hair. quite a bit of hair - It had been a male.

Now, let me stop here and explain that I am not a scientist. But I have an enquiring mind - love all the SCI/Forensics shows, all the Medical examiner books, am almost as analytical as Bones (not as smart, of course, but nearly. -- 8^)] ---) And I have lived on a farm - killed and cleaned chickens and rabbits and geese and goats. And yes, I ate them, and I decided that if I was going to eat meat, I'd better be able to kill it - but that's another post.

But never entrails. Until today.

Of course, there was that one time she left me something that really looked like a kidney. It was small - about the size of my thumbnail, and firm, and not moist, but not dried out either - but not bloody - and no entrails. Bloody entrails on my porch in the morning before I've even had coffee - that's not really a gift, honey.

So she's a killer - and a gift-giver - but no more entrails, please!