Little Bunny Foo-Foo

Willow.

Willooooow.

(Doesn't he look like a kitty hit man? All he needs is a velour tracksuit and a gold chain around his neck.)

Just two days ago I was telling my neighbor how relieved I was that it was fall because the birds are migrating and my cat Willow hadn't brought in a bird for a week.

I don't know if I've filled you all in on the bird saga. I'm sure I mentioned before that Willow is our mighty hunter. But he's got some serious blood thirst. I regularly have to check under the couch, where he likes to leave the corpses. Three or four times a week there's a dismembered bird or mouse under there. Fun for me! He just loves me so much.

But sometimes we catch him in the act, and we try to save the bird. That happened last week with a hummingbird. A hummingbird! Have you seen how fast they can fly? Not faster than Willow can move. Every time we're screaming and chasing a live bird around the house, I think of this episode of Modern Family. This is us, but with brooms in our hands trying to shoo the poor bird out the door. (We learned early on to lock Willow in a bedroom during the rescue, or else he'll just saunter in 5 minutes later with the bird in his mouth again.)

So anyway, it had been a week since the hummingbird incident, and there were no new corpses in the house. I was pleased, thinking I'd get a little reprieve from my undertaking duties for the winter.

And then Willow stepped up his game.

Bunnies.

Oh, yes. Bunnies. This is not a good situation at all. Madeline and Amelia (and their parents) were somewhat able to come to terms with Willow's natural instinct and his desire to express his love for us in the best way he knows how when it came to mice and birds. But bunnies? Bunnies are cute! And bunnies screech when they are scared and in pain. We are not equipped to appreciate this kind of love. Even from Willow.

This is starting to feel like creepy, sinister kitty love. What's next? Mackenzie, the shitzu across the street? His own sister, Mango?