I don't think that's a topic many of us would enjoy.

For my part, it's been a tough year. My girls are certainly adorable but we
lost Sugar's brother Grant in February and I know that I have just been
adjusting. My girls are indoor cats, so they don't bring in "prey" as such,
but Sugar does love to play with twistie ties and furry balls.

I did want to say there is a new level in the Sugar Pearl relationship.
Pearl is so funny. She wants to play and so she will ruuuun and scratch on a
cat tree. Then she will runnn and scratch on another one. She will get Sugar
in her sight and do the butt wiggle. That is enough to get Sugar to hiss and
move. HOwever, lately, a **small**chase might ensue. The two come no closer
than 2 feet before it breaks off. At that point, Pearl retires and Sugar
scratches madly on any nearby cat tree. Such an odd relationship.
Interested, but don't want to admit they want to play.

I think the majority of posters on this group live in north america,
where inside only cats are common.

Well, as others have mentioned, cats (like mine) are often mostly or
entirely indoor cats, which reduces their hunting options. I still give
mine credit for the almost entirely mouse-free state of my house, which
came to me with a reputation for mouse infestation. I think the mice smell
'cat' and stay clear, which suits me.

I have always said that if Mandy, at least, and possibly Betsy, had to
hunt to survive, they'd starve. Betsy was on the street a bit, but I've
always suspected her of being more of a garbage connoisseur than a Mighty
Hunter. Mandy... well, she's got the right idea, but she can't seem to be
very successful. In all these years, I found two mice in the house. One
had been lurking deceased in some washing. The other managed to outwit not
one but two cats by hiding behind the leg of a piece of furniture. When I
caught it an released it outside, it appeared to be less active and agile
than I'd expect a mouse to be, but I don't know if this was due to some
nearly-successful attack, or if the mouse was terrified or very elderly or
something.

String and similar objects, that's the right kind of prey for my two. It
doesn't cheat and hide, either.

With Nikki gone, I'm afraid there won't be many hunting stories to post
any more, unless Miranda turns out to be a huntress, which I doubt. It
will have to wait until we go out to our summer island, though, because
here in town they are indoor cats only.

Frank was a late bloomer when it comes to hunting. He was 10 when he
made his first kill. He's not that interested in hunting, but sometimes
he bags one. The most memorable time was when I woke early one morning
to a dead vole dangling in my face, hanging from the mouth of a purring,
very pleased-with-himself Frank. Another memorable moment was when my
foot hit something wet and cold in bed in the middle of the night, I
jumped up and pulled away the covers to discover half a vole at the foot
of the bed.

Nikki, of course, was a huntress supreme. She brought me numerous voles,
water voles and, once, a baby hare. Some birds, too, and a squirrel a
couple of times. Nikki would even dive into water to catch a water vole.
I didn't see her doing it ever, but when she came home with a water
vole, and was wet all over during a very dry summer, this is the only
explanation. I'm not going to miss the half-eaten carcasses littering
the floor this summer, but I will miss having Nikki around on the
island. She really bloomed there.

Well, here's a very old story. Years ago, back in the late 60s, we had
a male daschund who raised an abandoned kitten. For the first year or
so Mittens thought he was a d*g. That pretty much ended when he
learned he could scale the fence, and of course he also learned about
girl kitties. (Note: these days one of the first things I would do
would be to get him neutered, but back then it just wasn't something
we thought of doing. In fact I don't think Mittens was ever seen by
TED.)

Bobo, the doxy, was kept in a fenced yard, but one of his favorite
things was to go into the foothills with us kids. In fact it was on of
these trips that he found Mittens, the sole survivor of a litter of
kits someone had dumped. Anyway, Bobo was forever digging at the
ground squirrel holes, but of coure he could never catch a squirrel.
Once Mittens learned he could climb fences he would often make the 1/4
mile trip from our house to the edge of the foothills, usually by
himself but sometimes he'd come along when we were playing with Bobo.

Anyway, one day Mittens brought home a ground squirrel and presented
it to Bobo. It was pretty amazing to us, since Mittens wasn't a BIG
cat, just medium sized, and he carried a good sized squirrel home,
climbing a couple six foot fences to get it home to give to Bo.

Not so much that, but most of us don't like to dwell on the icky
presents the kitties leave.

Kristy
still wondering if the butt is the best part and they're saving it for
me, or the worst part and they don't want it.