Rocky, the Maine coon cat, often sleeps with me. Being of excessive floof, he often hawks up fur balls at inopportune times and not-so-great places. Anyhow, at 1 am, night before last, I woke up to hawking. So I got up to clean it off the carpet before it dried and smelled. I'd bolted out of bed and turned the light on half-asleep.
When I got back into bed, I see Rocky has brought me a present: A dead mouse is on the blanket right where he sleeps next to me. I managed to praise him for being a mighty hunter, but I think I hurt his feelings when I didn't eat it. (Husband says I should have at least put it in my mouth and let him see me with the tail sticking out of my mouth.) I threw it outside...Rocky didn't sleep with me for the rest of the night, but forgave me eventually. He's just that kind of guy.
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