Our cats are excellent hunters and are averaging 4 chipmunks per day. Unfortunately that’s 4 caught per day, not necessarily 4 killed. See they, much like many cats, prefer to torment their prey rather than cleanly dispatch it. Luckily Cooper the dog is quite willing to serve as executioner. This becomes particularly important when the cats decide to bring those chipmunks home.
And I don’t mean to the front door. I mean into the house. Like yesterday for example. I’m on the front porch sweeping up when I hear the sound of a cat meowing with her mouth full.
Never heard that sound? It’s distinctive. Makes me jump right up and run to shut the door. Sadly, I’m nowhere near as fast as a four-legged feline. In she goes, live chipmunk hanging prominently from her jaws. I run in right after her, calling very urgently for Cooper because that cat is no sooner three feet into the house when she releases one very motivated chippy. It darts deeper into the room but Cooper executes an impressive snatch and grab before it has a chance to really make any progress.
I tell Coop “outside!” and worry not a bit that that’s the end of my problem. Can you see this coming? This is where I make my big mistake. Instead of following the dog outside to praise her, I chastise the cat...and Coop comes running back in to see what I’m doing, chipmunk in hand, so to speak. And then she releases it. Because obviously I want it inside, right?
Now I’m yelling, the cats are watching, and Cooper is running around nose to ground trying to track the darn thing which has escaped into the closet under the stairs. The very deep, very full closet.
Chris soon joins in the mayhem and we’re now all involved in trying to outwit the wee beastie. Stuff is moved, the dog alerts on a box of Christmas decorations, and BAM, she’s got it! “Outside! Outside! Oh my God she’s dropped it!” “Just kill that fucking chipmunk!”
Victory was ours.