The Mighty Hunters

Last week I was thinking the new cats, Eustace and Basil, just weren't stacking up to the cats of my past in the hunting department. Sure they are handsome boys with good characters, but where are the presents? Where is the "Thanks for all the canned food, here is a small, dead mouse"? That Sister, now she was a hunter! A fresh, new snake brought right to my kitchen every morning: Snake Express, We Deliver! These new kittens don't impress me, the lazy bums. A few moths. A grasshopper or two. Once a month a vole, if I'm lucky. Why I'd certainly have starved to death by now if I had to rely on their feeble hunting skills.

They read my mind. Or else, as my husband pointed out, spring arrived. This week my kitchen has been body part central. So far I have received: a headless snake, a full grown male cardinal, a baby vole, a bird's head, and a squirrel's tail. And the week isn't over yet. Good pickings if you happen to like assorted small, helpless animal parts.

Fanny, the bulldog, however, remains unimpressed. She has bigger, more impressive prey to hunt. There is nothing she likes better than to go for a drive with Dave or me, and come home with tacos, or pizza, or eggrolls. You can see the excitement when she comes through the door. Look! Look what we have done!

From Fanny's Unpublished Memoirs:

It was a good day for a hunt. She did that thing with her voice, that thing that makes me shiver. Do you want to go in the car? I must sit for THE LEASH even though I am trembling.

She is a great hunter. Our pack is never hungry. Every day she hunts and there is food. Every morning there is food in MY DISH. I must sit and wait. I drool. And then she says, Good Dog.

When she makes that chop chop noise, I run to the kitchen. She is standing. She stands and makes a chop chop noise and something flies in the air and lands in my mouth. It is good. It is meaty.

When I hear the crinkle crinkle sound, I am sleeping. I run to the bedroom. Crinkle crinkle from the bedroom at night is good. Sometimes it is cheesy things, they are crunchy and small. Sometimes it is POPCORN. Sometimes it is things I cannot have. NO. NO. They make me sad.

When I smell that special smell from the kitchen, I know good things are coming. It is RIB time. This is good. I sit ON THE CARPET. GOOD DOG. This is BONES. I get many bones. This is a good night.

Today, now, she does that thing with her voice. You want to go in the car? We go OUTSIDE. The air is good. The air smells like excitement. We go in THE CAR. The car is like the house but smaller. I go in THE BACKSEAT. We sit and we wait. I know she is a good hunter. She is good at sitting and waiting. She will wait and the prey will come. She goes outside the car, but she always hunts alone. Wait in the car. I am in the car and roam around trying to see her. She does not go too far. She is coming back. And this place smells like the small, soft things. I can smell it. It will be good.

Get in the backseat She has brought that smell with her. The small, soft parts are inside the skin. She carries the skin. It is not good, that skin, it is tough. I make a soft cry. She hears my cry. My cry is, "Can we eat the small, soft things now?" She says Do you want a DOUGHNUT? She tears the skin. Inside is the good things. A piece flies through the air. Oh. It is the good, small, soft thing. I swallow it. We should eat all the soft, small things now. I can smell more. There are more. But she sits and waits. She will find home. She will find our pack and share. She is a good hunter.

She goes outside the car with the small, soft things. She comes to get me. I sniff the air. This is HOME. We go INSIDE. The small, soft things go ON THE TABLE. When I was a puppy, I went ON THE TABLE. I ate many small, soft things. I ate the skin. It was BAD DOG. I do not do that now. I do not go ON THE TABLE. I sit. The man comes. "Look at what we found!" I tell him. I show him I am happy. He is happy. Our pack will not be hungry. She is a good hunter.