The Huntress

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The Huntress guarding the Wee Baby Abel during a nap

Sharing a home with any pet requires trade-offs. At our house, the cat – who adopted us when we moved into what she clearly thinks of as her apartment – provides many benefits. She is an excellent snuggle buddy whenever anyone is enjoying some quiet time with a book or a movie. She’s been very patient about her de facto role as big sister to the baby, waiting as he progressed from the stereotypical baby “pat-pat” through to understanding that animals should be touched gently. Where she used to tolerate the baby for a few moments and then dash off as kiddo got excited, she now seeks him out for attention and I think she might be trying to teach him to open doors for her. It’s been sweet to watch how much the baby loves this cat. He follows her around the house, sometimes babbling excitedly. “Gentle” is one of his first dozen words. “Meow” is another. I would even go so far as to guess that his positive experiences with our cat are the reason behind his love of the pets he meets when we are out in the world.

As the adult human in the partnership, my end of the bargain is usually pretty low-key: buy some cat food, fill her dish a couple of times a day, make sure her water doesn’t turn green. All in all, it’s a pretty good system, most of the time.

But then there are the times when I have to deal with the cat’s instinct to hunt. Or rather, her persistent attempts to bring her prey inside the house.

Once, the only clue I had that one of her prizes was in the house was a terrible smell. I searched high and low before I discovered the source: a decaying lizard under my bed. Another time, I caught her as she was coming inside with a mouse in her mouth. Who knows where she would have stashed it if I hadn’t sent her right back out once again.

Recently, she took it way too far, however, when I came home to find a ground lizard on its back. This is the biggest thing she’s ever brought inside. In my mind it looks like a small alligator, although the reality is that it was probably 12 inches long from snout to tail. Normally I find small lizards pretty cute. I’ve never willingly touched one, but neither do I find it necessary to chase them away if they want to hang out nearby, and, I don’t know, hunt flies. This one, however, was too big to be endearing, it just needed to get out. Attempting to removing it showed me the worst of the situation. The poor creature was still alive.

Is there a ground lizard intensive care unit? No, but even if there was, I doubt very much they could have saved this thing. It was just the latest victim of the huntress.

This first appeared in the Jan. 31 edition of the Limin’ Times.

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