Clyde, Clyde, Clyde....

He did it again. Last night it was after midnight and Clyde was at the sliding glass door at the back of the house. He wanted in. The room was fairly dark and I opened the door as I was thinking about other things, such as whether one particular noise was one of the boys waking up. I wasn't even looking at Clyde as he came in.

I went to the bathroom and was about to go to bed. About 10 minutes had passed since I let Clyde in. I wanted a drink water so I came back to the kitchen area which is near the sliding glass door. On the floor was a dead, bloody bird. Feathers were scattered in about a 6 foot radius. There were drips of blood scattered around too. Apparently the bird was not quite dead when Clyde brought it in. And he had been enjoying himself. I obviously wasn't paying attention to him or to what was in his mouth when I opened the door. Soooo, it looked like a fine mess to clean up. Clyde was laying about 10 feet away from the dead bird looking smug.

Clyde watched me as I picked up the dead bird in some paper towels and chucked it back outside. I swept up the feathers and then sanitized the area while trying to get the drops of blood off of the hard wood floor. That was actually the toughest part. Those little drops had dried and didn't want to come up. Clyde watched the whole time and when I was done he meowed as he walked up to me and then purred. He wanted to be rewarded with some attention. As much as I disliked cleaning up, how can you be mad when an animal does what it is meant to do and did it well? So yes, I pet him and told him he was a good kitty--and promptly tossed him back outside so he could clean himself up a little bit more.