Last year, our precious, ferocious, thinks he's "alpha" cat became quite the yard-warrior. He brought home birds, bunnies, mice, frogs, snakes and lizards with reckless abandon. These critters came into the house dead or alive. I know we should have been grateful for his hard fought/won victories. I'm sure we should have greeted these treasures with praise.
But instead I tended to yell for hubby (or hubby was the sad discoverer) and we quickly cleaned up and eliminated all traces of the prizes that were delivered. I can imagine why poor Al (for Alabaster, as in white, not for "Alpha," as in dominant) kept going after bigger and better prey. We must seem ridiculously hard to please.
Now, I am suddenly understanding why Al insists on lurking around dark corners, pouncing on my ankles when I walk by, in an effort to bring me down. Clearly he has decided that if he can deliver me at the feet of the Master of the House, finally, finally he will get some respect around here.
My darling hubby is absolutely enamored with this theory.