One of ours trotted into a bedroom with a mouse in his mouth and dropped at the foot of the bed. The mouse came to and ran off before we could do anything with it!
He had the mouse’s head in his mouth. The rest of the mouse was still attached to the head., undamaged.
Our Midnight used to catch things, bring them in to parade around in front of the other cats: “I have a Moth and you Don’t!” Then she’d eat them.
In her old age, when she was fat and arthritic, she nevertheless finally managed to catch a chipmunk. A live chipmunk. She was crying pathetically to be let in so she could show it off, but we wouldn’t let her. We were afraid it’d get away and we’d have to chase a chipmunk through the house.
One day I was sitting at the computer and turned around. My cat was nose to nose with a mouse - making friends. Yeah, mine is a useful mouser.
With cooler weather coming, I’ve given the current bunch of felines a pep talk about how “there may be wee beasties, and you are predators”. I’ve even reminded Baxter that he caught a snake and killed it, even though he’s declawed.
They all looked at me somewhat vacantly, so I don’t hold out much hope.
One time when a wee mousie got into our house our (well-fed, indoor) cat cornered it in the front hall. She then proceeded to pat at it with sheathed claws. The mouse was on its hind legs jumping frantically up & down like a cartoon mouse.
We used to have an orange marmalade cat that seemed to have the brains of a potato, but he was a great mouser. I think this was mostly because he was so stupid he never got bored; as if his brain rebooted every couple of minutes. Hmm, this corner of the basement smells like mouse; I’ll wait here until it comes back. [tick, tick, tick] Whoops, where am I? Oh, this corner of the basement smells like mouse. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Pepper Mill came home one day to find Midnight busy with something g.
“What have you got?” she asked.
Midnight immediately turned around. A tiny frog leg was protruding from her mouth. She made a questioning sound (“Mrr?”).
Pepper Mill still hasn’t forgotten it.
Midnight ate what she killed – moths, bugs, frogs, toads. I know that she caught (but did not kill or eat) a snake, a bird, a mouse, and the chipmunk.
Do all dogs eat their own poo too? My last two have done this, then they’d come in and puke it up on the carpeting. Never on the hardwood floors, and never on a throw rug that we could throw in the wash. ALWAYS on the carpeting.:eek:
No, you just lock it in a room with an open window. The birds, now, they’re tricky. They panic, you see.
You’re lucky he didn’t consider those rewards and try to do it again.
No, my dogs have never eaten their own poop, and I’ve had a lot of dogs. I had a horse once who went through a spell of coprophagia, and it was because I’d stopped a particular supplement she was getting. I restarted it and she didn’t do it again. Maybe your dogs’ diet is lacking something? I’d talk to your vet.
StG
Yeah, I suppose I should do that. We do feed him some very expensive dog food though. If we feed him anything cheaper, he yacks it up and has atomic green poo. TMI, I know.
I asked the dog’s groomer about it and she wasn’t phased by it. She called them poopsicles.
Dustin - There is a supplement to keep the dogs from eating their own poo.
StG
Thanks! I may just get that stuff.
Tonka just brought another mouse, this one in a ‘nest’ (well, a bunch, anyway) of grass. Mrs. L.A. and I both went to the door. There was a plastic bag on the table, and I handed it to her. She picked up the mouse and grass and put it in the trash bag on the deck. Poor Tonka was sniffing around where he dropped the mouse looking like, 'Hey! Where’s my mouse? I just had it a second ago! 
’
Mrs. L.A. said, ‘At least he doesn’t eat it and vomit it up and then eat it again like Creamsicle does. That’s disgusting.’ She was also glad that the mouse wasn’t alive and unharmed, like the first one he caught. I like that he catches mice. It means fewer mice around. I don’t mind if he eats them. (I don’t know if he does.) But I don’t want him bringing the trophies into the house – a concern, since we’re keeping the door open much of the day.
For being such a mighty hunter, Tonka got a piece of bacon.
Our cat starts getting antsy at daybreak every day, and we have to eject her from the bedroom and close the door. She takes exception to this on occasion, and we’ll hear her meowing in the other room. If we hear her right outside the door doing her predator yowl, we know that when we wake up we’ll find this staring up at us with its beady little eyes.
According to whatever I’ve been reading lately, cats do this not because they’re bringing you a gift but because they’re trying to show you what they think you’re supposed to be doing for yourself.
Am I the only one here who has seen The Godfather? Nobody drops part of a dead thing on your bed (rug, floor, foot, etc.) to say “thanks!” or even “now go thou and do likewise.” It’s a threat. That we can’t figure out what we are supposed to do next is a cause for concern. There’s a reason Dr. Evil doesn’t walk around with a Labradoodle.
Cats. Brrr.
No, what your cat was doing was trying to do was teach you how to hunt. He killed the mice to demonstrate killing technique to you. He then brought in a live bird for you to practice hunting on. The bird escaped, so you failed the course miserably. You will have to repeat the class next semester.
Hah. Yeah, but.
I have found a couple of dear legs in the house over the years. Perhaps to be saved for later.
The worst was when my wife found a half desecrated deer head in the house. She didn’t tell me about it, but did set it right on top of the trash. Bought had a heart attach when I opened the lid to the trash.