The back porch door was open and our adorable little almost-two-year-old, all golden curls and pink dimples, was wandering in and out. One time as she was coming in, I noticed Marlowe the cat was sort of hovering around her; then the air was full of female shrieks: “She’s got a dead rat!” And so she did, holding it up all eager to please, while Marlowe looked confused and irritated. A fair-sized one too, with a good five inches of dangling tail. A few seconds later, she was just as confused and irritated as Marlowe, for the same reason, and the corpse was headed for disposal.
(Well, yes, we have two healthy cats that go outside, and this is a waterfront city thus will always have rats, and our cats are well-fed so they bring their prizes home to the back porch to show off.)