Tully, Tully, Sweetest Kitty

Tuesday evening, as I was preparing dinner, I looked out the window to see Tully running across the back yard with something gray and furry hanging from her mouth. It was large, so I was hoping it wasn't a rat she was bringing us. She's good at mole and mouse hunting, but tends to not leave those on the doorstep anymore, thank goodness.

It wasn't a rat. It was a bunny. Tully dropped it on the doorstep, and I pulled her inside. I looked out the window. The bunny appeared alive, but as if it were "playing possum". I decided to get a box to move it out to the woods, while Tully yowled to go outside again. By the time I got a box, the bunny had disappeared, so apparently it was well enough to hop off the porch on its own. I was relieved, as I don't like bunnies dying. I'm fine with the mole killing, as I guess I never read "The Wind in the Willows" as a child. I did read "Watership Down" though, and tend to sympathize with adorable little bunnies over their less cute rodent cousins (I know, rabbits aren't rodents. That's why I said cousins!). Strangely enough, I had rats as pets, and like them, but not in their wild or non-domesticated pet form.

Later that night, Tully figured out how to get out of the upstairs bedroom window where the screen is broken. As I was getting ready for bed, she appeared above me on the bathroom skylight, meowing at her predicament. I told her I couldn't help her, as the screen on the skylight doesn't open, but I wasn't worried as she's a good climber and I figured she'd find her way back in. I went to bed and Tully was inside at morning.

Wednesday night, she was up to her window antics again. I went to bed again. Thursday morning at dawn, I heard Tully coming in the window, followed by squeaking sounds. I hoped that it was the sound of a dog toy being squeezed, but had a feeling that wasn't the case. I got up, and say something gray on the floor. I didn't have my contacts in, so had to get closer to see that it was a bunny. A sweet little bunny with some clumps of fur missing. I sighed. It was still alive, but I knew it wouldn't be for long, and I couldn't bring myself to do it in. I got a tissue box and carried it outside, leaving it under a shrub. I hoped it would be able to find its way back to a nest and heal. I checked later, and it was still there, but not looking very live. Sigh. Sorry bunnies! You don't do well in our neck of the woods. See here.

Still, I couldn't really be mad at Tully. She's a cat. She likes to hunt. It's her nature. When we adopted her, the people who put her up for adoption had remarked on her intake form that she was a "good provider" for her kittens. Yes, I bet she was! Bringing me bunnies isn't necessary though. I've never eaten rabbit, and don't plan to start on tiny bunnies my cat has caught for me. No, I'm not a "butcher it yourself" kinda girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thursday afternoon, I was painting a table in the dining room with the window open. Tully was lounging on the walkway outside, and I'd call to her and she'd look up with her beautiful green eyes. That was the last time I saw her. She didn't come in Thursday evening. We had been doing well keeping her in at night until she discovered the window screen trick. I thought she's pop in Thursday night, but she didn't. Early this morning, around 4 a.m., I thought I heard a distant meowing, and ran outside, expecting to find Tully. She didn't come. I kept hearing the noise, but I don't know if it was a cat, or another animal.

I had a dream later in the morning that she came back, bringing a dozen little kittens that looked exactly like her with her. In the dream, I remarked to Hubby that I guessed they hadn't spayed her at the Humane Society before we adopted her after all, but that was why she'd run off -- to have her kittens. I was so happy and relieved in my dream. Sigh. Off to do more neighborhood scouring with the boys.