Mr. M

On occasion, this cat, Mr. Mistoffolees, is the bane of my existence. Never mind that he is a kitler (check out the site, it's really funny), he lives up to the moniker by being not only a complete pain in the rear end, but also indiscriminate killer of small cute creatures. Last week he deposited a darling, but very dead, little chameleon on our back porch. Fortunately for me Mr. Charlie next door removed its sad little carcass after I had stepped over it for a few days.

So this morning I am dawdling in the kitchen when I noticed out of the corner of my eye little "things" flying all over the porch area. I look closer and see they are feathers, lots of feathers. Then I see that Mr. M has trapped a poor little dove (it actually wasn't little--I was pretty surprised he could catch a bird that big, as skinny and small as he is) and it is cowering in fear and injury while he tortures it on the porch. Callie meanwhile is inside, watching all of this and about hysterical with wanting to be outside.

The whole thing of course freaks me out and I shriek and run to wake up Ann, to share the misery. She does not appreciate this. About this time her friend and our savior/hero for the day Margaret shows up, just stopping by. I venture back into the kitchen and take a peak at what is going on...the bird is gone, minus a lot of its feathers, but Mr. M is still on the porch, and there is something monstrously wrong with his left eye. My first impression was that the bird had pecked it out (which I evilly thought kind of served him right). I am shrieking even more at this point so Margaret, dear blessed Margaret comes in to help. She thinks it's just eye goo on his eye, so we bring him in to examine. Up close it's very obvious that it's actually a FEATHER in his eye, but it's not just sitting there waiting to be blown away, it's STUCK. I am holding the cat (amazingly he is being still and not doing his usual push with all his might to get away) and she is wiping at his eye with a paper towel and the feather is not coming off. It's as if it's poked directly into his eyeball...can't be comfortable. She finally has to grab it and pull it out with her fingers. BLEH!!!!

I still don't know why Margaret came over this morning, but I do know that I am ever so grateful!