my MIL used to catch wild mice in the house by hand and put them out in the backyard. Every now and again she had to borrow our cat and go for long walks….
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I just toss them to the butcherbirds
the cats around here are all in shallow graves.
recalling life
As a child I was more of an observer than a participant yet participate i did.. thus there is history.
One July dawning I awoke to minus six C and there was pussy cat.. with a litter larger than she had teats for.
Thus one runty stiff specimen was laying aside as if cast off a ship’s lifeboat in the Arctic. Frozen solid and eyes yet unopened .. I scrummaged in the cupboards and found a clean empty Milo tin.. walked up the back and buried the hapless feline mite, sealed in the tin.
Got washed and dressed, caught the bus off to school.. At the end of the school day, one of the neighbours, a younger girl came over inquiring about the kitten I had buried.. She had heard about it from my younger sister. o in observer mode again I traversed the yard to the burial site and exhumed the coffin.. er.. afore mentioned Milo tin. i said there that’s what I buried the kitten in. Open it she said.. Why? I asked.. She apparently wanted to see the kitten dead or alive so I opened the tin.
Lo and behold there was a live kitten in the bottom of the tin, mewing for its mama!
This same kitten not a few weeks later happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when an inquisitive child plays with the quick start lawnmowers of those days.. these things were devised to open the handle and do about half a turn and click the handle back down.. Brrm..!
Well the kitten was sleeping on the rotor plate that the blades are attached to .. wasn’t it.
Splat. was the first thing I heard followed by splittersplatter.. in quick succession.. blood was sprayed around the door of the outdoor dunny and the wall of the house..
but the cat came back., momentarily later was wobbling about saying in cat speak.. “anyone get the number of thet truck?”