by Harry F.
My Lucy knows how to hunt birds
Lately, I have been attempting to teach Lucy to stop bringing the “prizes” from her hunt into the living room. To be honest, I thought we were past that. My sister’s neighbor, Frank, who I met at that regrettable Christmas party a couple years back, told me that cats were, in his opinion, the most domesticated pets. To be frank, considering the luck I’ve had with my Lucy, I am tempted to agree.
Beyond the occasional hiss at the odd crawling insect, Lucy has always been a delightful cat. Her only nasty habit is to bring us “presents” that often demand thorough cleaning and usually agitate the kids. I mean, who wants to have a dead bird on their carpet, right?
And that’s exactly why I tried to repress Lucy’s hunting urges. The vet advised I try sleeping with Lucy in the bed, as the “soothing proximity” with her family may act as an anesthetic to the throbbing desire to hunt. My cousin Susan, however – the queen of the Facebook comment reply – believes I should simply tire Lucy more. And I mean, while her approach seemed less complex at once, and possibly a longshot, I have been trying it the past few weeks.
I have been playing more games with Lucy in the garden, the kids have even helped me set up an obstacle course for her with little prizes at the end of each challenge. She’s always been rather enthusiastic about this sort of stuff, and I can tell she’s delighted with the new activities.
But while this approach seems to be working and Lucy is clearly more tired, even more docile at the end of the day, I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s heartbreaking to constantly wake her from naps during the day and trick her into playing more.
The other night, I fell asleep on the couch as I was watching the evening news. Lucy had been asleep on my chest for half an hour. However, in the depths of my somnolence, I felt Lucy stir and slide through my arms. Awoken by the movement, I turned to look at her sit in front of the wall, watching some sort of bug crawl against it. But just as the bug got lower and close enough to make my Lucy bound, she made a weak movement forward and collapsed, fast asleep. Though I was tempted to laugh - and a little in awe over her determination to hunt in spite of her exhaustion – I feel I may have not have needed to put her in that predicament. As I slowly raised my sleeping Lucy back into my arms, where she remained most of the night, I figured I ought to love Lucy as she is, for she loves me as I am. Hunter or not, she’s still my gorgeous kitty!