The cat did a Murder Again.

Jeff had stopped killng during the winter for once. We had read in a book that cats think you are another cats while dogs can distinguish that you are human. So a cat bringing you a dead bird is him trying the teach you to kill like him. Once you get used to the dead animals they then bring you half death animals in a view for you to give the killer blow. The more shrieks and screams watching him bring in a half dead crow into a sitting room is music to a cats ears.
"It is natural that the young scream at first but I will teach them"
The cat was a killing machine and his kill scores were in the double figures every week so we decided to get him a bell. But the killing did not stop and then it did something weird, It started to increase. We told the vet about his killing spree and the vet told us that the bell was after making him even more stealthy and he managed to move so slowly and sneakily that the bell would not sound. I was secretly proud of our big Tom cat, who had a larger kill total than the American sniper.
But things died down after we locked the cat flap and made sure the windows were closed at all times until last week. I was in work and got a phone call.

My other half.
"The fucking cat is after catching a bird and hes still alive. He has the bird in our room so I locked him in." "What will I do?" . She had told me she screamed the house down and the neighbours may think there has been a murder up there in our house. The kids were crying wondering why Jeff had a birdy in his mouth and was tearing up the stairs to get away from a screaming mammy. I told her to calm down. A really good thing to say to most women because it really soothes them and they calm down 9 times out of 10. So logic told me that the bird was a goner so instead of you trying to capture a half eaten alive bird then the cat was to do the killing and I would just come home and it would be a dustpan and brush jobbie and we can forget this whole thing had ever happened so this became the plan.

I shuddered in work as my first thing I had to do when I went home was to become the house pathologist and clean up man. Or being an Irish man and having watched the film , "The Irish man" , the painters and decorators were called to the scene and I had a body to dispose of.

So I came home to a traumatised wife and kids and told them I saw a birdie fly out the window, I had found a feather on the grass and pointed to the little man who is 3 that the bird had probably landed there when he flew out the window. Cunning "Blanchy" . That was just too cunning. What a great father you are convincing the 3 year old that there was indeed no murder scene in the bedroom. My wife had locked the cat into our bedroom to finish off what he had started. I have not disclosed yet that Jeff had a signature. A tell. All serial killers so. Jeff would behead all his victims. So you would find the body and no head but the head was always around somewhere after he played paw tennis with it until he got bored.

So I put on the disposable gloves , grapped the dustpan and brush and some flash floor mop wet wipe things. I could not find the goggles. I opened the bedroom door and the cat darted out with nothing in his mouth. The deed was done but there were no signs of the victim. There was a cat puke though which was the first obstacle. I tended to this but where was the bird.
I walked into the walk in wardrope and there was a couple of feathers and a bird poo. "A PANIC SHIT". We all have them hence the phrase I was shitting myself. Some Irish parents used to say to change your underpants so it is clean in case you are in an accident. This bird was in an accident so you couldn't really judge. It wasn't too bad though. Some birds would shattershot all over the house before their demise. This guy kept control. Hmmmmmm where are you? Not in wardrobe. Jeff used the walk in wardrope once as a safe house after another cat had injured him. He stayed their for a week without food and water recuperating once plotting his revenge. He reminded me of Leonardo Di Caprio's character in Revenant and I was te Indian giving him in water now and then. He would not use his sacred recovery spot as a killing field. Somewhere else then. If I was the cat where would I do it. Under the bed!!!

I looked under the bed and straight away a close up of a bird head greeted me. Just picture a sight of a death bird chirping his last chirp. That was his face. As per usual his torso was at the other side of the bed. I noticed it was alot messier than his usual kills. He was out of practice. I had to get under the bed with the dustpan. Not the easiest thing using a dustpan under a bed. You should try it. It took me ages to actually get him all. I then had to pull out the hoover and get that Flash mop out to get rid of the last of the blood. Fuck my fucking life I thought to myself as I got a bit of bird blood on my lovely white tshirt. The fucking cat. Once I had the floor clean and the bird in his final resting place via a plastic bad. I got rid of the evidence and went back to normal. Dinner was nearly up and all I could see was bird parts under the bed, rib cages and a squawky bird head that looked terrified.
My wife was still raging about the cat and promised not to leave him in for a week. She also banned his evening meal as punishment but I snuck out and fed him. Poor old Jeff, Tis only instinct and I think he was trying to initiate the boy into the family. That's my pussycat. Looking after the fam. You are worth an aul decapitation clean up every now and then.