There's a neighborhood cat (name on tag: Tigger. address on tag: two doors down) that often frequents my home. I leave my back door open for air and sunshine, and Tigger has become used to walking in at random and making himself at home on my bed. Sometimes he mews outside my back windows or at the door to come in should everything be locked up. He's trained me well.

Tigger's clean. We'll taken care of. A good nice sweet healthy prowling cat. At night, he comes around, mews and acknowledges to me that tonight I'm his chosen bedmate. Fine with me. He's the perfect pet. Someone else feeds him, takes him to the vet and keeps the fleas off of him. Me? I get free easy lovin'.

Today, as I sat on my front porch, Tigger came around the corner to drop a dead pigeon off for me. Internally, I was hurling. Externally, I praised the heck out of him.

He pick up the carcass and pranced it around the courtyard looking for a place to dismantle his prize safely. After a good 20min, he came back to rip it apart in the bushes underneath my living room window.

I don't believe I'll be sleeping with Tigger tonight. Although, he's the first male to slay anything (dragon or otherwise) for me.

l8r.