Max does not eat bugs. He will torture them, ripping off their little wings or pulling off their little legs, but he then leaves them on the floor to die a painful and horrible death, unless someone sees them first and engages in insecticide.
Buddah, on the other hand, delights in chasing bugs down; he’ll play a long game of cat and mouse, even if it’s just a fly. And when he’s done playing, he has himself a tasty little treat.
While it grosses me out, I appreciate the little guy’s fine hunting skills. I don’t like to see him eating bugs but I don’t take them away and toss them outside to freedom, as I am wont to do when I catch them. The only live toy he’s had taken away was a Yellow Jacket the Boy found him playing with yesterday. Buddah was apparently winning the fight when the Boy realized what he was playing with and then squished it; Buddah didn’t get stung, and the Yellow Jacket was too tired to attempt an escape from the shoe zooming towards it.
So I avoid watching Buddah with bugs. Let him enjoy it, I don’t need to be a part of it.
But a couple of mornings ago…I was still in bed, trying to convince myself that getting up would not be fatal, when he bounded in, something with long legs and wings hanging out of his mouth. He jumped up on the bed, onto my chest, and presented me with half of the biggest damned bug I’ve seen in years.
Um, yeah. Just half of it.
My initial thought was get that thing the hell off me! but here was my sweet little kitty, offering me part of his kill. As much as I wanted to get out of bed and away from the bug guts, I petted his head, thanked him, and said I wasn’t really hungry. And then I picked it up by what was left of a wing, dangled it in front of Buddah’s nose, and was trapped there as witness to the devouring of the remains.
I seriously hope we never have another mouse…