By Stephanie Abbajay

A few months ago I stepped out onto my back porch and something on the floor caught my eye. It was tiny and gray, no bigger than a postage stamp. As I knelt down to take a closer look, it took a few moments for me to register what it was. It was the face of a mouse, but just the face, perfectly excised from the head -- no blood, no brains, no bones, no skull, no ears, just the face. That’s a very odd thing to find on one’s porch, a mouse face.

But then it happened again, and then again. It’s happened three times now in three months. Now, once is odd and twice is really weird, but three times is a trend. I’m no expert in cat behavior, but I think my cats are trying to tell me something. What that is, I’m not exactly sure.

We have two outside cats, Scott Gray (who is, of course, gray) and Gary Milford (who is orange). Yes, they have people names, first and last, but that’s what you get when your five-year old names your pets for you. I would have preferred snowball and buttercup, or something more pet-like than Scott and Gary, but there you have it.

Scott and Gary are great cats. They come when you call them, they follow us wherever we go and they love to play.

And they kill things. Lots of things. There is a whole corner of our porch dedicated to the disemboweling and bloodletting of the small mammals and birds they kill. This is, I think, very intrepid of them, a little genetic wild streak in an otherwise domesticated animal.

It is also, however, disgusting. We routinely find entrails and their contents smeared in front of the door, bloody fur, feathers, a miscellaneous paw or the foot of an unlucky rabbit. By the same token, the cats also leave whole birds and mice by the doors, untouched, presumably for our approval. It’s very sweet, in a gruesome sort of way, like an offering of love or proof that they are doing their job to rid the farmstead of rodents and menacing birds. Something like, “Just wanted you to see what we caught before we ate it.”

What then, do we make of the mice faces? I’m not sure where Scott and Gary are going with this, just bringing the faces. What message are they trying to send? Is it an offering, like they are saving the best bits for us? Is it small proof of their hunting prowess and dissecting skills? Is it some creepy artistic expression? It is a mystery, to be sure. But as kitty-expressions go, I’ll take a little gray mouse face over a bloody bowel any day.

The Jersey County Journal

January 18, 2007

Crazy cats, part II

By Stephanie Abbajay

A few months ago I wrote a column about my two cats, Scott and Gary, and the mouse faces they leave for me by the back door. For those who don’t remember the gory details, in addition to various body parts, identifiable and otherwise, the duo leave the faces of gray mice, perfectly excised from the head; just the faces, not the skull or brains or any blood.

Not content with the attention this brings them, my two little hunters have devised a new and even more disturbing way to get my attention. The cats have figured out my schedule and are now leaving offerings where and when they know for certain that I will find them. To be exact, they are now leaving entrails on the roof of my car.

I get up every morning at 4:30 a.m. to go to the Wellness Center. I pad quietly downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee and get ready. When I turn on the lights, I see Scott and Gary perched on the windowsills outside the kitchen windows, waiting for me. They are always there, like clockwork. I feed them and pet them and head off to workout. When I return from the gym they jump on my car, balance on the side mirrors and doorframe and paw the windows until I pet them again. Which I do before heading inside to get everyone up and ready for the day.

Same routine, same time, every single morning. Oftentimes I am too rushed when we all head out at 8 a.m. to pay much attention to them, so they have devised a very clever, if disgusting way, to slow me down.

The other morning, after returning from the gym, I got everyone ready and we were heading to the car when we noticed Scott perched on one side mirror and Gary perched on the other. Strange. As I approached the car I saw something on the roof by the driver’s side door. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a fresh, steaming pile of entrails, impossible to miss. The cats seemed very pleased with themselves, despite the fact that we were all horrified. There is no getting around it: they knew when I would return and what I would do (get into my car and leave) and they went out and got something to show me and put it where it would be impossible to miss.

I certainly did not want to touch the stuff; besides, we were all ready to go. So I drove off, kids in the back, intestines on the roof. The entrails stayed there all day. I even made all my co-workers come out to the parking lot to see them as proof of my insane cats. When I got home the cats were there waiting for us. We got out, petted them and then went into the house. A few minutes later I looked out the window and there they were, on the roof of my car, eating what they had left that morning. Crazy cats.

April 5, 2007