Who knew my cat was a killer?
Recently my apartment has been home of some enormous moths that sneak in when I get home from school. They just follow the light right in to the house. Anyway, the first time this happened, the-cat-formerly-known-as-Schmitty was ON it. She tracked the moth from one end of the apartment to another then patiently waited as it came into striking distance. Once in her reach, she caught it and swated it until it was in the bedroom where I could witness her hunting prowess. Then in two chomps, she ate it. Sick.
Later in the week I was awoken by the-cat-formerly-known-as-Schmitty meowing with fervor. She actually sounded a bit like a miniature cow braying. I got up in my sleepy stupor and poked at her, trying to find the off button. She shut up. I went back to bed. Then, an hour later, round two of mini-meow-moaning began. It was at this point Jen says: Dude, maybe the cat is trying to tell you something...
Sure enough, she had tracked a cricket into the bedroom and was frustrated at its inaccessible hiding spot. It all ended with squished cricket guts on the floor and a disappointed cat who really, really hoped for more.
Here's a picture of the-cat-formerly-known-as-Schmitty in her new Ikea outfit. She really likes dress up.
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