Not So Lucky

Ginger is our cat.  Sometimes we call her "Meow Meow" and other times she is known as Gingivitis.  She couldn't really be described as a house cat as she spends most of her time outdoors.  From time to time she'll scratch on the window screen or the French doors to let us know that she'd like to come inside and sleep all day in the sunroom.  Ah, the leisurely and independent life of a cat.

True to the reputation cats have gained of being finicky, she will beg for cat food, even when there is some in her dish in the garage.  Over time we have come to understand that she wants "fresh" food because if we scoop a little more food on top, she'll eat on it.  Can you believe, the cat thinks her food is stale if it sits out for a few hours.  Ginger doesn't do leftovers.  Well, please don't tell her.  This will be a secret between you and me, okay?  When she's not looking, I'll quickly poor the "stale" food back into the container and then scoop it out again.  Magically, it is fresh again.  She has not caught on to my trickery... yet.

A couple of days ago, Ginger wasn't interested in food at all.  We were wondering if she might be sick.  Here is the patient.  She doesn't look ill, does she?

Tricia had me look outside on the patio outside the French doors.  Ginger wasn't eating because she was sick.  She wasn't eating because she was FULL.  The old girl had hunted the previous evening and killed a rabbit.  She dissected her kill, leaving the head on top, the cottontail to the left, the entrails to the right and two rabbit's feet.

I am not a superstitious person and I don't believe in luck.  But if I did, I would say that the lucky rabbit's foot saying has been proven to be not true - for the poor rabbit at least.  Le lapin.

The Hunter and the Hunted

We have a cat, and her name is Ginger.  Ginger is fat.  She is an outdoor cat, but likes to come in.  She knows the window to our bedroom and will meow by our window to be let in.  Early in the morning when she sees the light go on in our Sun Room, she'll meow by that window to be let in.  Tricia opens the door and she'll go sit on her favorite chair and sleep for the better part of a day.  Ginger is lazy.

I am not much of a 'cat person.'  I'm not mean to Ginger, by any means but not a whole lot of warmth between us, either.  My wife keeps reminding me of the good things that Ginger does.  As if to put an exclamation mark on that thought, the other day Ginger proved her worth to me.  Our fat cat came around the corner in brisk pursuit of something.  She pounced into the Louisiana Iris that grows alongside the patio like a tiger chasing an antelope.

She brought out a mouse and paraded in front of me to show off her skills and prowess as a hunter.

She sat down and let the mouse go.  The mouse ran away, but Ginger was quickly on top of the mouse, toying with it with her paws.  She played with it until she got bored and killed it.

Ginger dismembered the mouse and left what she didn't eat by the back door.  We always have to be careful when stepping out so that we don't step on remains of Ginger's prey.  Okay, I'll be honest and admit it, Ginger > mice.