I started out the back door to get towels out of the dryer this afternoon and caught myself just in time to miss stepping on Foster Kitty’s latest stalking triumph – the back quarter of his afternoon delight spread out neatly beside him while he gnawed greedily on the upper portion. H wanted the squirrel population pared down because they eat all the bird seed in the feeders so he’s getting his wish.
In Foster Kitty’s defense I can’t call him a night stalker because he does all his stalking during the day. He has become a stalker of squirrels. I’ve lost count on how many ‘gifts’ he has bequeathed us on our doorstep, be it at the front door or at the back door. He always leaves us the tail so we can make a muff or something I guess.
I just can not figure out why he considers raw squirrel a delicacy, though I do know for a fact some people covet the brains. My ex mother-in-law was famous for adding the head to her squirrel gumbo. After one too many times of scooping that head up with those beady little eyes in the serving spoon my days of eating squirrel gumbo are over.
When you think about it they are just rodents and not on my lists of wild game to eat anymore. Thankfully, with all the hunting H and Andrew do, they rarely go squirrel hunting. If they did, they could take Foster Kitty with them and he could be the squirrel cat.