Giving Gifts...just because...

You might recognize this regal fella

He's the header of my blog :)

He loves his mommy (me).

He's his mama's (me) baby boy.

He knows his mommy will take care of him...and let him sleep on her squishy pillow.

I love Uh-Oh...as a matter of fact, I've blogged about him before.

Here, here and here.

Uh-Oh and his brother Beneigt keep us on our toes...

and sometimes up in the air.

Last night as I walked through the house for a last check through, I opened the door from my kitchen to the patio.

As I stepped out off the house threshold into the covered patio, something caught my eye.

Something large.

Something right under my feet.

Something dead.

Something that still had blood on it.

Something that was as long as my feet (I wear a size 9 shoe).

If there had been water under me, I would've walked on it.

If it hadn't been 10:30 and I wasn't already 30 minutes late for my absolute latest time to go to bed and an hour and a half after my wannabe bedtime and if all three of my children hadn't already gone to bed (miracle of miracles), I would've screamed my head off.

That's my pretty normal reaction to 9 foot, dead, bloody nasty stuff right under my feet at 10:30 p.m.

In through the patio door sauntered Uh-Oh and Beneigt, sniffing around as if nothing was amiss.

The only thing I could think of that would be worse than the 9 foot, bloody, dead mess under my feet was two cats coming in to investigate, sniffing and waiting on me to congratulate them.

You see, I knew that they were probably the culprits.

As a lifelong cat lover, I long ago chose to take a blind eye, ear and mouth to the fact that cats have a few unsavory habits.

I hopped into the patio, grabbed up both cats and hopped back in the house.

I do not have the slightest idea why I chose to hop.

I think I felt as if the less time my feet actually spent on the floor of the patio, the less chance my feet would be contaminated by the as of yet unidentified 9 foot, dead, bloody mess.

Why I thought it would get up and touch me, I have no idea.

I do know that this 9 foot, dead, bloody mess was much bigger than what these guys usually bring home.

Little birds, moles, or even small mice are much easier to deal with than this thing...whatever it was.

My girls wouldn't even open the patio door this morning when I told them about last night's trauma.

The attempted to identify the dead animal through the blinds of our windows.

They are very much like their mother :)

And, no, you'll be forever grateful that I did not take a picture of the corpse for you to identify on your own.

The Head of My Household pronounced the 9 foot, bloody, dead mess a rabbit.

He knows this because one of the tasks that falls under his job description is the removal of any dead (or alive) unwanted animals/rodents that may find their way into our lives (or our pool).

Have I mentioned that the Head of My Household is not a cat person?

I began to wonder how in the world Uh-Oh and Beneigt could have possibly stopped this rabbit in its tracks.

The rabbits we see around here are fast and hidden expertly in the leaves and woods around our house.

This rabbit wasn't a baby.

He would have had to put up a fight.

Neither Uh-Oh nor Beneigt is that much bigger than this rabbit, ears and all, would have been alive.

Could they have possibly conspired together to take out this rabbit?

I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with not knowing for sure that my guys, in fact, were the murderers.

Because they ain't talkin'