I awoke to a great commotion outside the bedroom door – the Mogret was miowing/blorping/chirping excitedly and insistently.
Then we noticed the half-a-whateveritwas that she was consuming.
Well that’s nice, Cat: bring us a present and then get overexcited and eat it yourself. Thanks.
I guess it’s baby-bird season, and there’s no amount of beeping collars that will allow baby birds to escape from her. Which is sad, and makes me want to lock her inside. It’s a tricky one: I know she is obeying her nature, and the fact that she is the most efficient hunter that I’ve ever seen is something that nature rejoices in, but at the same time, I like birds, and the thought of any species losing a baby is anathema to me.
The solution is not to have a cat, I suppose, but she is such an important part of our lives that we would miss her terribly were we to give her away. She would make an excellent farm cat, and would thoroughly enjoy the experience, but we are too selfish for that. She’s *ours*!
So, I apologise to the bird population, but you are going to have to nest smarter. Admittedly quite a lot smarter, as Mogret’s pretty intelligent. Sorry.