In for the kill

The brindle cat was on the prowl. She sauntered down the darkened hallway, caterwauling. The fur ball had a mouse and was bringing it home to feed her family. Mom was half asleep, but was brought fully awake when the cat pounced on the bed, dragging her catch with her.

Depositing the freshly-caught, furry wet mess on her mom’s chest, the cat waited for praise and loving caresses. It didn’t matter that the cat’s prey was a much-chewed, stuffed toy, it was still food, and it was still a present worthy of approval. It also didn’t matter that it was 4 a.m., and the sun and her mom weren’t ready to rise for another two hours.

Dad was asleep beside Mom, warm and cozy. The cat stood on his shoulder, her quarry now lying on the floor where her mother flung it. Dad snorted, then began to loudly snore.

Good, the cat thought. At least one of her parents knew how to properly roar over a righteous kill.