Published: November 8, 2012, in Family Life

Our cat, Casper, caught a mouse last night. Naturally he deposited its mangled, half-shredded corpse on our bedroom floor once he was finished with it.

I tried to pick it up quickly using a sock like a glove and dispose of it without Emmy seeing what I was doing, but of course she saw. She sees everything.


“Nothing. It’s a sock.”

“No it isn’t. What IS that?”

“It’s a mouse, baby. Casper caught it.”

“OOoohhh! It’s so cute!”

“No, it’s not cute, it’s dead.”

“Oh. I wanna touch it.”

“You can’t touch it.”


“Because it’s dirty.”

“Oh! We can wash it off. And then dry it. It’ll be my friend!”

“No, I’m sorry but I have to throw it away.”

“But I wanna play with it!”

At some point I assume she’ll begin to have reservations about being close, personal friends with rodent corpses. Right now, rotting death is clearly not a limiting criterion in friend selection.

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