WARNING: This post contains REALLY GROSS PICTURES of dead rodents. It’s gory and graphic and if you get at all queasy over mice, dead things, headless things, brains, eyeballs, or exposed teeth, please close this page immediately and go do something else that’s pleasant and charming. Also, if you don’t like cats, you should move along.
Have I mentioned our brain-eating zombie cat? Because we have one and I never know whom I’ve told.
His name is Toki and he is sometimes a doctor (he refuses to leave our sides when we’re sick or injured) and usually a lover (he has a very romantic accent when necessary) and is mostly adorable and sweet. Here are too many pictures of him so you can see how precious he is.
We got him and his sister (shut UP about that littermate crap already. They came out of the same mom, they’re brother and sister, ok?) in 2008 when they were 8 or 10 weeks old. I don’t remember, exactly, because I’m a crappy mom. Can you imagine if I had human kids? I’d be all, “What? Last week was your birthday? Who the hell ARE you, anyway, and why are you in my kitchen?” It would be disastrous.
Originally, we were going to get twin tabbies but they were boring. Instead, Toki chose me so I had to choose him back and Gabe made the unfortunate mistake of going with the prettiest of the litter instead of choosing the one who chose him and we’ve paid for it ever since. She’s a horrible little beast (I love her anyhow). Her name is Evening and she is a diva.
Because of their natures – Evie being all concerned about her stupid fluffy tail and Toki being the prowler and pouncer – we figured our little man would be the first to bag a hunting trophy. We were wrong. Evie brought the first critter – a pregnant mousieshrewvole. She didn’t kill it, though; just stunned it and gave it to us. Toki was very interested in the whole affair and a week or so later, he brought in a bird. He was quite proud when he presented his catch and we praised him and I secretly vowed to attach more bells to his collar because he did kill his victim.
Several weeks later, I walked out the front door on my way to work and found a decapitated mouse on the doorstep.
The following week, there was another, complete with bloody bits of bone parts.
I wondered why there had been deposits sans skulls on our front steps. Was it a very small death threat? Did someone in the house have a crazy stalker who left gruesome presents in the night?
I solved the mystery when I came home one afternoon to find my darling sweetheart angel baby all hunched up on the walkway doing something odd. His back was to me and I thought maybe he was hacking up grass as my dumbass children tend to do. I got out of the car and said soothing things as I walked toward him. He looked over his shoulder with large, psycho-eyes and STARED at me. I began to worry he had rabies or something.
It wasn’t rabies. It was a dead mouse and I had interrupted Toki’s Ancient Egyptian-like method of removing the mouse brain via the eye socket. But he didn’t eat the eye. It was dangling from said socket and there was lavender-gray brain coming out behind it.
If I were a better person, a smarter person, a more sensible person, the type of person my mother probably hoped I’d become rather than the product of her own weird ways, I’d have done pretty much anything other than what I did do. I picked the partially de-brained animal up by its tail – WITHOUT USING FINGER PROTECTION! – and took pictures because that’s the totally sane reaction to finding out your sweet little kitty boy is actually a horrible monster.
Now I live with the knowledge that my cat is a brain-eating zombie and he is going to get to me one day, too
15 responses to “My cat is a zombie…from hell”
I remember coming into the kitchen one morning and finding bloody footprints and a mouse liver. Don’t ask me how I know it was a mouse liver. I just do. I reallreallyreallyreallyreallyreally don’t like mice, so I liked this, and praised Dusty and Mel to the skies. But I did wonder, given the “Silence of the Lambs” reference of “eating his liver with fava beans and a nice chianti” why they skipped the liver. But then I don’t like liver either.
Probably because they couldn’t open the Chianti or cook the fava beans so, really, what’s the point of eating the liver?
BTW – “Silence of the Lambs” is still the movie that scares me most.
I have a brain-eating kitten, too. We’ve discovered decapitated mice on our doorstep, and it’s pretty disturbing. But I love that you have a black kitty – we had one for fifteen years, and they’re seriously the best. 🙂
They are SO the best. I have loved all my black kitties but this one is especially adorable; I have unhealthy love for him…mostly because he picked me and he loves me more than he loves Gabe. 🙂
Yeah, what IS it with the brain-eating zombie kittens? It’s kinda creepy. In a fun way, of course. But still creepy.
oh my god! that is all.
I know, right??!
Is Evening part Maine Coon? She looks it a little. Which would be all the more interesting, since I had a Maine Coon called Morning.
I’m apparently just going to say vaguely stalker-like things now. Because that would be FAR less creepy than just a quick note to say that I’ve stumbled across your blog and find your writing style enjoyable.
There are no human children in my kitchen either. …I don’t think. Maybe I should clean more often.
First off, thank you so much for the compliment! I don’t get many strangers here so it’s wonderful to hear that others besides my friends and family find (are forced to find) my writing enjoyable!
Evening is not part Maine Coon, as far as we know. She’s just a plain, old tabby with longish fur (she would KILL me if she knew I called her plain and old) She’s actually rather small at 8 pounds. However, now that I know you had a Maine Coon named Morning, I really want Evie to have Maine Coon in her so I’m just going to randomly say, “Yes of COURSE she’s part Maine Coon!” Even though she’s not at all. It makes the story way more fun.
Viva les creepy stalkers! I’m one, too! 😀
I have no idea what the post is about as I skipped past all the gory animal pictures…if they had been decapitated humans, I would have been fine with it..But I would just like to say “Aaarrrrrhhhh! ditull puss cats!!!” 😉
No, no, you pretty much got the gist of the post – adorable kitties and dismembered, gory pictures. That was about it. You missed nothing.
That’s always good too hear…See, I sometimes struggle with the point of some posts/books they go way over my head *whoosh! Moon child* So I am glad that I got that one without even trying…It makes me believe I am ‘special’ so BRAVO!! and please write more… 😉
We have six cats here, but there are five people, so it averages out. Bailey and Kali bring me rabbits, mice, and birds, and then I taxiderm them and put them in tiny clothes.
I felt this was relevant, even if it’s not as hilarious as your posts.
FOR REALLY REALS? You stuff dead creatures and dress them??? Do you charge for this service? If so, how much? Why didn’t I know this about you? I have NO taxidermied creatures. NONE! Luckily for you, Le Jeneral didn’t comment on this post because she’d go nuts if she found you had this skill; she wants a taxidermied squirrel so badly but they’re too expensive on Etsy.
Wow. Just…I am…you are the most…can I have you? To love and to hold and to pet and to enslave and to take you home and call “George”? Please???
I am *very* bad at it. Well, just too poor to afford the foam forms you put into the preserved skins. I’ll send you a picture of one on Twitter. I have sold one or two, but I never know what to charge, because it’s pretty amateurish work. We have plenty of field animals around here, but I’ve never seen one of the cats take down a squirrel. Bunnies, on the other hand…
Well, if you took me home et al, that’d put a crimp in Europe! Otherwise….
Our first cat, ‘Rabbit’, was a cannibal and brought home quite big dead rabbits he’d all the time. He left them on the lawn near our front door long enough for us to notice and pay obeisance to the Master Slaughterer, then would methodically eat them. But he’d eat them like they were a stonefruit or something – around the outside, leaving the guts behind. Which we would sometimes step in because we were running barefoot without watching where we were going. Squidgy rabbit offal toes. Thanks, cat.
PS I’ll mostly lurk on this blog catchup adventure and I know you’re busy getting H’weeny so don’t feel obligated to reply to all my dumb comments will you!