December 23, 2009

Ghost the Predator


Three sunsets ago, I had a strange experience.  I've been a babysitter to two humanes that go by their aliases, Ghost and Harriett. To my horror, Ghost brought me a gift, an unborn fetus of a certain creature, its umiboral cord torn as it remained lifeless on its pool of blood.  I gasped then took several breaths for it's not the first time.  But it's the worst corspe I've seen.  


Ghost has been bringing me gifts of dead creatures to show appreciation of me being there for him.  That's in every cat's nature.  If they're very happy and they're outdoor cats; they'll bring you a gift from outside.


So I picked him up and landed him on the bed next to the corspe and kept on asking him, where did you find it?  He must have mauled it out of a creature's womb.




I sighed then took him off the bed onto the floor and pet him.  He meow in which only his parents would understand; for me it's a lost translation but I could assume that he's very happy with me.


A sunset ago after cleaning up other two corpses of birds (another long story) that Ghost had brought in, I went into the bathroom to wash my hands and to prepare myself a shower.  Opening up the curtain, I screamed as there were a cricket the size of my hand and a huge spider in the bathtub.  I had a bad childhood memory of a cricket jumping into my face while I was in the shower.  I wasn't in the mood to try to rescue them alive filled with my own paranoid that they might jump onto my face again.  


Then I had an idea, a strange idea.  I ran into the bedroom where Ghost was pampering himself, picked him up, ran back into the bathroom and put him in the bathroom.  Why not?  He's the greatest of all predators in his neighbor.


Ghost sniffed them, looked at me then jumped out of the bathroom, leaving them unharmed.  Good gracious!  Maybe he's not for hire.  Then I had another idea.  I turned on the hot shower and practically drowned them.  An impulsive thought: Now I'm starting to be like Ghost.


Damn.