red in tooth and claw

I am typing this with Our Ginger snuggled up against my arm as he lies purring on the end of the sofa.  In truth he is not so much snuggled against me, as sliding down the sofa and on to me, and he is making it slightly awkward to type.  Ergonomic designs for desk workspace would not include a large cat resting an increasing proportion of his considerable weight on your arm while you type, and it can only be a matter of time before it starts to ache so much that I have to move him.  Or put the computer to one side so that he can lie in my lap, which is what he really wants.

He was not so cute this morning.  As I was putting away some shopping in the kitchen I heard a curious thumping noise from the sitting room.  I couldn't immediately identify exactly what was causing it, but presumed it involved cats doing something they shouldn't.  I went to investigate, and beat a hasty retreat at the sight of Our Ginger with a large baby rabbit clamped in his jaws.  The drumming noise was the sound you get when a rabbit in its dying agony bangs its feet against the base of a grandfather clock.  Bet you didn't know what that sounded like.  Nor did I, until this morning.  Very resonant pieces of furniture, long case clocks.

I demanded that the Systems Administrator Do Something About Our Ginger and his rabbit.  It is deeply unfair to make the dead and half dead things that the cats bring in into the SA's responsibility, but I really loathe gore of any sort, and reason that anybody who spends as much time reading military history as the SA does, and has voluntarily seen Saving Private Ryan, is better equipped to deal with rabbits than I am.  The SA shepherded cat and rabbit out of the front door and round the corner of the house.

The other cats knew that there had been a rabbit, and spent some time sniffing around the base of the clock in baffled desire for the spoils of the chase.  After a while Our Ginger reappeared, sans bunny and looking pugnacious.  Then he sat and yowled in the middle of the drive for a while.  Then he went and got another rabbit.  This time the SA succeeded in heading him off before he got into the house, and he trotted off into the garden with the big anxious tabby in pursuit.  He may have been allowed a share, since not even Our Ginger could eat two entire rabbits in quick succession.

Two-faced, Jekyll and Hyde characters, cats.  To look at him now you wouldn't think that butter would melt.