Meepo the Killer

This is Meepo.

Meepo the killer . . .

Meepo, who sleeps in the sink, licks his privates in public (much to the dismay of my youngest daughter . . . “Meepo! Lick your balls someplace else!”), eats Shadow the Pug’s Kibbles & Bits, and stares down Annie and Judy the gerbils with a mischievous, chop-lickin’ kitty grin.

Being a writer-wannabe, I believe it absolutely mandatory to own a cat . . .

An Interlude

T.S. Eliot loved cats.

William Butler Yeats loved cats.

Christina Rossetti loved cats.

John Keats loved cats.

J. R. R. Tolkien loved cats.

Mark Twain loved cats.

Christopher Smart loved cats.

Marianne Moore loved cats.

Ernest Hemingway loved cats.

Oscar Wilde loved cats.

Doris Lessing, Rita Mae Brown, Carolyn Chute, Nuala O’Faolain . . .

Isn’t it time you got a cat?

So I got a cat. My precious little fur ball came to live with us two years ago this Father’s Day and he immediately wrapped his furtive little tail around my tentative heart. Two little peas in the proverbial pod we are; we both like our space, crave an unfair amount of R&R and pretty much keep to ourselves.

One thing I’m not is a killer. I no doubt share a bit of my ancestors’ hunter-gatherer instincts, but I discharge my altruistic inheritance via weekly visits to the local Kroger. On my first hunting trip with my dad, where it was expected that I would bag a squirrel or two, I instead used the rifle as a walking stick, jamming mud an inch deep into the barrel. I get moody when I flatten one of nature’s creatures with my Prelude. Send me back in time a few hundred years to some untamed patch of land and I’d likely starve to death.

Not Meepo.

The other morning I’m sitting in my writing chair, chewing on some Kant, enjoying my morning coffee and half-heartedly hearing my wife’s palaver concerning the onions in her garden. And here comes Meepo around the corner of the house clutching a baby cottontail in his maw. After a lot of “Ewww!“-ing on the part of my wife, and some not-so-clean verbal coaxing, he drops it at my feet.

It’s still alive. Its ear is gnashed through and its back legs are bleeding and useless. But its eyes are working frantically as Meepo starts circling it. The hunter in my sweet little kitty is alive and quite well.

I probably should have put it out of its misery. I consider this for about half a second and then realize I have neither the requisite knowledge nor the fortitude of heart for such a task. So I grab a shovel, gently scoop the little guy off my driveway and place it deep in the lilac bushes where it can either heal up and live to hop another day or die in peaceful rabbity, end-of-life contemplation.

Meepo the killer. Doing what his nature demands of him. And I think perhaps, just maybe, I’m the one that’s too domesticated . . .

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18 thoughts on “Meepo the Killer

  1. He’s got that EEEVVVILLL look in his eyes. Look closely, and you’ll see it. But, hey, it’s survivial of the fittest. And that rabbit wasn’t cut out for the fight.

  2. Maybe next time take the injured bunny to the vet? I don’t think they charge you for it and he’d suffer less.
    Not to be critical on my first comment or anything.

  3. Welcome, Lilac. We live in a very rural area; by the time we’d’ve gotten the bunny there, it would’ve been dead already. I might make a call to the nearest vet, just to see what their policy is on such things as treating wild animals . . .

  4. Eek! Poor bunny! I’m glad you didn’t have the heart to kill it, though I probably would have taken it to a vet that dealt with wildlife. Hopefully he was able to heal and move on. That’s what I’ll keep telling myself.

    It’s so easy to forget that our cats are little hunters, isn’t it? Mine are all kept indoors, so the only ones they try to kill are each other!

    Peace – D

  5. My cat’s are Fred and Charlotte. The worst they’ve ever laid at my feet are horked up hair-ball vomit piles. That is EWWW. Luckily my wife has the stomach to clean it up. I’m a bit of a barf sissy.

    M

  6. I had never caught the connection! Thank you! Come to think of it, my husband loves cats, and I wish I had even a fraction of his writing talent.

    Meepo is darling, and you do realize that he thinks he’s bringing you gifts and that they will earn him praise when he does that, right? I had a kitty that would snatch birds right out of the air and sit by them patiently waiting for me to open the door and praise him. Sick as it sounds, that’s what they do.

    And in your defense, living in a rural area myself, the chances of finding a vet who would have treated that bunny are zero to none. I’d have done the same thing as you. My heart would have been broken, but still… Sometimes life is cruel, especially in the country wild.

  7. Meepo is all cat. It’s cat’s nature to hunt and family cats bringing home little rabbits are all about provisioning for their human family. meepo needs an atta- boy whenever he is behaving true to his nature, even if it might make you slightly squeamish. Our General is lurking about the house trying to figure out how he might possibly bag the new mature Scottie who is slightly lighter in weight than he is. it is perversely entertaining to watch him try and figure out how he could successfully hunt down the new interloper. The dog, meanwhile, is having none of his nonsense, being equipped with a sharp set of ratter’s teeth and amazing speed of reaction. G

  8. Eeeeew.

    Happens here all the time, too. You want to hug them, because they’re clearly trying to bestow upon you the ultimate gift, but it’s hard to hug for fear of vomiting all over them.

  9. I hate to say it, but that’s what cats do. I used to have a cat in Connecticut who would find a mouse outside and bat it around for a while to torture it first. (We intervened when we could.)

    But curled up in the bathroom sink? Meepo looks as sweet as pie. They’re clever little creatures.

    Back then, in the wilderness, you would have gotten hungry enough, I think, for your survival skills to kick in. You would have gone all Man vs. Wild on that patch of land. 😉

  10. I was going to call the nearest vet today, but alas there was much on the agenda and time ran out. I’ll try tomorrow and let you know what they suggest to do the next time something like this happens.

    Mind you, if it’s a rat or a mouse or something like that, the darn thing can just suffer.

    Thank you all for your comments . . .

  11. My cat growing up would do stuff like that. He’d always be bringing dead mice and what not to the door even though he was an indoor cat. The vet told us it was a sign of affection. Couldn’t he just not spit up hair-balls and we’ll call it even.

  12. Here at the Temple of Bast, we love cats!!!! But it is hard when they bring in the kill. I’m pretty philosophical about voles and the occasional squirrel, but the birds piss me off, and if they bag a bunny, its house arrest for the week. I know that’s unfair to the voles and squirrels, but bunnies are way cuter than they are (even they ARE good eating), and catching babies is just unfair.

    Our latest cat addition ate the algae eater out of the fish tank, the naughty boy. The boys were aghast – I confess, I kind of thought it was funny. Fish don’t do much for me, unless they’re on the grill – is that wrong?

  13. My wife contacted the nearest vet, actually a guy we know from around the area, and he said that had we brought the bunny in, he probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything and would have euthanized it. And he would probably have to charge us for it.

    Interesting . . .

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