A Cat Story

Saturday night when we went to bed, Nutmeg was still outside and wouldn’t come in, so we left her outside and went to bed.

At about 1:30 am, I woke up because I was cold and could hear her meowing frantically, begging to come in.

Because of the placement of the Ghetto Cat Pen, we can’t easily open the back door. So I opened the front door and hoped Nutmeg would figure out how to come around the house to the front to come in.

“Nutmeg! Nutmeg!” I called.

I could hear her collar jingling as she ran back and forth. Her meows were loud through the open back window. “Mow! Mow! Mow! [jingle jingle jingle.] Mow! Mow! Mow! [jingle jingle jingle.]” I thought I could even hear her pounding on the sliding glass door and jumping against the windows.

I stood there for maybe five or ten minutes, waiting for the cat, calling her name every now and then, as she continued to frantically run around, jingling and meowing. I was sooo tired. The lights were off, but the outside front light was on, and I waited for Nutmeg to figure it out (she had come around once before during the day, so I knew it was possible, it just might take a while).

All of a sudden it seemed like the meows were louder. A furry shape brushed against my feet. I was really surprised because I swore I had kept my eyes open and hadn’t seen her come in through the front door. But as I said, I was really sleepy, and thought that maybe Steve had let her in earlier, and she was just running around the house crazily while I thought she was outside. I was very confused, but way too tired to try to figure it out. At least the cat was inside the house, so I went back to bed.

Well, Nutmeg continued to meow loudly. “MOWWWWW. MOWWWWWWW.”

Very annoyed, I got back out of bed and went out, turning on the living room light to see what she was doing. I saw that she had grabbed one of the tasseled cat toys out of the ghetto cat pen and had it in her mouth, meowing loudly in what I now call her “huntress meow.” She came over and dropped it, meowing at me. She had riled up the kittens and I could hear them pounding around inside the cat pen.

Annoyed, I decided to throw the toy back into the cat pen and go back to bed as nothing seemed to be wrong. I bent down and picked up the toy.

Except it wasn’t a toy. It was a small brown DEAD BIRD.

I dropped it and immediately washed my hands with soap and water. As I was washing my hands, waking up more and more, the thought occurred to me that the dead bird certainly didn’t come from inside the house, which meant that Nutmeg was outside when she was meowing frantically, which meant she had come inside the house somehow, but not through the front door where I was. How had she gotten in? I wondered if we had accidentally left the sliding glass door open, because the kittens have been able to open the screen door and get out if we do so.

I looked at the sliding glass door. Closed. Then I noticed that one of the living room windows was missing its screen. I looked out the window — the screen had been torn down and was laying on the ground! Our crazy cat had managed to dislodge the screen and had jumped in through the window with the bird!

I closed the window, then I went into the bedroom, unsure of what to do, and sighed so loudly that Steve woke up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nutmeg brought in a dead bird,” I said.

Steve grunted in annoyance and said, “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of it.”

We went out to the living room to find Nutmeg happily batting the bird around the living room, pouncing on it and scattering feathers everywhere.

Steve got a paper towel, picked it up, and threw it away. We praised Nutmeg for being a good hunter and went to bed, leaving her stretched out on the floor, purring loudly.

Back in bed, I said, “I can’t believe Nutmeg got a bird! Even with a jingly collar!”

Steve said, “Hey, she’s a hunter.”

I said, “She’s a FREAKING MANIAC! She tore off the window screen to get inside the house!!”

Somehow, despite his grumpiness at having to dispose of a bird in the middle of a night, Steve was very tickled by my using the phrase “freaking maniac” and started laughing punchily.

It took a little while for us to calm down and go back to sleep.

Reprinted from my private friends-and-family blog.


3 thoughts on “A Cat Story

  1. *snort* my mum’s cat sparky likes to do the following: each time her partner Al goes to the hospital (he’s 71) and we come back after ensuring he’s ok, sparky comes to me (or mum) as we get out of the car and brings us a baby bunny (or something else depending on the season, i get the bunnies). except I have to get the shovel and am unable to play…

    sparky also taught my cosette how to knock out our screens (from the inside) and escape (i think i taught him that but i was breaking in [long story]) … then we moved and it was no longer a problem.

    what a funny but sad story! i want to praise nutmeg but …

  2. Kristine – 🙂 Thanks for commenting!

    Penny – Baby bunny?! That seems pretty traumatic for you and the bunny.

    One more question I asked Steve was “why do we always end up with pets who are too smart for us?” Our former dog (an Australian Shepherd) figured out how to open lever doors from both sides and was about as good as Houdini at getting out of restraining situations.

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