This is Belle sleeping. Such a sweet sight. But just moments ago, she was standing in the kitchen, yodeling in her “I’ve got a present for you!” voice.

I tense every time I hear that voice. My immediate response is, “What have you done now?”

In the not too distant past, all my cats were indoor/outdoor pets. Then, two years in a row, we had problems we’d never had before–fleas. Horrible little critters that multiply faster’n you can say git! and chew on anything fleshy. And the cats had brought them into the house. I don’t know why their flea medicine didn’t work, but it didn’t.

After declaring war on the ferocious little critters and battling till they were all dead and vacuumed away from carpet, cushions, and drapes, we made the drastic decision to turn the girls into indoor cats exclusively. Believe me, that started a battle of a different sort when Belle, especially, didn’t understand why she couldn’t go outside and hunt anymore.

She was the queen of her jungle out there. In her younger years, she brought us crawfish, baby bass, snakes, moles, a variety of birds, and even (I hate to say this in public), a flying squirrel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a live flying squirrel, so I was a bit surprised to be cat-gifted a dead one.

And it was a gift. Belle always brought her prizes to the door, and always used that same “I’ve got a present for you!” voice. It’s an odd thing, deep, gutteral. “Morrr-owl.” Always sounds like she has something in her mouth. And back then, she did. Some of my funniest moments were thanks to her having a mouth full of “odd presents.”

So when she was using that voice this morning, I couldn’t imagine what she’d captured. Especially since our socks are locked away in our bedroom. Yes, she makes the same sound no matter what her conquest–socks, wash cloths, undies. It can be embarrassing. But she’s never made that warrior-home-from-the-hunt cry in the kitchen.

Until today.

For some reason, she felt victorious over her cat food. Take a bite, swallow, “Morrr-owl!” Another bite, swallow, “Morr-owl!” Finally sated, she planted her furry little bottom regally in the middle of the kitchen floor and yodeled a long sequence of morr-owls. And I do mean “yodeled.” She wasn’t being soft-spoken about whatever it is she was so proud of herself for.

I finally had to go look. Maybe there was something in her food that I hadn’t seen. Maybe she actually caught a mouse in my kitchen or something–not likely, but I couldn’t tell from where I sat, and stranger things have happened. But no. Nothing “morr-owl”-worthy caught my attention.

She’s old. Almost 20 now. Who knows what she found worth crowing about. Maybe she had a flashback to one of her victories as she tasted food. Whatever it was, the queen of the jungle got to roar again–and the only present I got out of it was the joy of hearing it.

~~~~~

Related posts:

“Odd Presents”

“Happy Cat”

“Lessons from Cat Tales”

~~~~~

Health update:

Went to see one of my doctors yesterday. Drove by myself, all the way to Tyler! That alone is wonderful, I tell ya. She’s so pleased to see how well I’m doing, she took me off the antibiotics and said I didn’t have to see her again until September. Can you believe it? This mess is almost over!

God bless the research team who developed Humira, and doubly bless all my doctors who have been the instruments of His gift of healing. It’s so nice to feel normal again!