At least once a week in the summer I wake up to the sound of a cat yodelling that she’s caught something and is bringing it inside for inspection. Last weekend she’d decided that breakfast wasn’t to her liking, so went straight outside. Instead of her carefully prepared pile of cat food, she caught her own breakfast and brought it in for me to inspect. Fortunately she stopped short of climbing up on the bed to share, and had in fact killed the vole. I was still obligated to get up and praise her before she’d settle down to dispose of the evidence. Sometimes I’m grateful that she thrives on praise, and sometimes I want to wake up to something other than the possibility of chasing down another leaping mouse.
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