Body Parts

No, I haven't seen any bodies in the canal...

My place is littered with body parts -- lizard tails and lizard bodies to be more precise. My cat Squeekers and her partner-in-crime Lily are the perpetrators. They deposit dead bodies in the kitchen, in the bedroom, under the coffee table. They're very proud of their hunting skills.

They're showing off, asking for praise.


It's not working.

When I see one of these cats with a lizard in her mouth I screech and tell her to drop it. I lecture, I nag. These tactics never worked with anyone else I've ever lived with, so I don't know why I bother. Habit, I guess.

My neighbors and I often comment on how lucky our cats are. They are extremely well fed. They get vaccinations and medical treatment. They spend their days lazing by the pool or sleeping on terraces. Their nights are spent in their owners' beds, protected from the wild cats and possums that take over the condo complex at night.

Apparently all this coddling and cosseting (now there's a word I don't use often) is not enough. No, these luckiest-cats-in-all-of-Mexico want it all, they want dead lizards.

They also want Whiskas Salmon Paté. They want naps by the pool.

I would be jealous if I weren't already living in paradise. Besides, I don't like lizards or salmon paté. And, like the cats, I can nap by the pool whenever I want.


(Note to self -- when you've run out of things to write about, just post a few cat photos. Who can resist?)