I seem to have this situation going on here, the two parties being my cat and my husband.
On the one side there is the cat. Not even a year old, pitch black, sleek, nearly full grown, totally unaware of the Sword of Damocles hanging over his balls, an incredible hunter, and very very smug about that last part. As a good cat should do – but especially one in his puberty – he tries to please me, being his mistress/mommy/protector/the one who feeds him. And what is the summum of adoration he can show me ? Bringing me a live prey, usually a nice bird.
So this morning at 5.15u I was crudely awakened by an unearthly, ghastly, terrible squeeking – and I can assure you, at 5.15 in the morning it IS all these things! – of a little bird in death angst ! Purper (pronounced purrpurr, but being the Dutch word for Purple) came to wake me, as if I wasn’t awake yet, to praise him and his hunter qualities. The bird had already a broken wing, but was very much alive for the rest, and making a godawful racket. I tried to grab both cat and bird, but as the latter dragged the former under the bed, it wasn’t that easy. After several minutes, I managed to grab the bird in one hand, and the very indignified and offended cat in the other, went downstairs, and threw both of them in the garden. I couldn’t deny the cat his prey, as he is supposed to do such things, and the bird was lost anyway. Back up I went.

And there I found the other party in the problem: my husband. Bart had naturally been awaken – du-uh – by the bird’s anxious squeeks as well, and was terrified… My husband is the sweetest guy you can imagine, smart, caring, understanding, sweet, inventive, brave, hard working, attentive, romantic… But even a perfect guy needs to have a flaw, and the flaw on this one is blood. He just can’t see blood and gore and such things, without getting sick or vomiting. So as soon as he realised what was going on right underneath him, he curled up in foetus position, and covered his ears with his hands, and kept his eyes shut real tight. As the minutes of fruitless chase passed, I heared a soft moan immersing from the stack of blankets he was underneath. Poor guy. As I came back up after throwing all animal things outside, I found him positively trembling. I had to hold him, stroke his hair, rock him gently for him to calm down. Was so awkward, he usually does that kind of thing for me… Eventually he went back to sleep, still clutching my hand…

And the cat ? He left the remains of the bird on the porch, and came back up to sleep at my side, very very pleased with himself. And me ? I couldn’t deny the appraisal he earned. After all, he had been a good cat, providing me with a treat…

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