This is Bernice. Don't be fooled...Our mainland cat Bernice is an exemplary feline and a voracious predator/murderer. I don't say this lightly. Perched calmly in the photo above, framed by greenery, orchids and art, doesn't accurately portray her usual nature. She's definitely shown me why keeping a cat indoors is a favor both to the cat and the neighborhood critters. I've had many kitties in my lifetime, but she is the most prolific hunter I've ever known.
I've mentioned elsewhere how I like to keep air flowing through the house (the "flow-through teabag" effect). I seldom, if ever, close the doors completely whether I'm home or not. There are consequences of doing that, of course, and I've come to accept most of them. Because the house is never completely closed up, Bernice has proudly presented her bounty of lizards, frogs, birds, hummingbirds, rats, mice and pygmy mice; most heartbreakingly, a baby bunny and most horrifyingly, a baby rattlesnake, all for my approval and admiration. We even have a generic name for the carnage, regardless of the critter involved. It's "birdy mayhem."
The "open door'" policy also seems to invite other critters inside as well. I've come home to a neighbor's sweet orange kitty, Miss Scarlet, happily asleep on my bed, like it was meant to be. (Bernice must have been out hunting.)
Last night around midnight I heard some noise coming from the utility porch, where I keep the pet food and water bowls. Ordinarily, our dog Olive keeps critters out of the house before they get very far, but she was spending the night at my daughter's house down the block for a sleepover with my grand-dog Pepper.
I got up to investigate, and found a giant raccoon happily polishing off Bernice's food, rattling the bowls to get the last crumbs. When we locked eyes, he made a run for it. I went and got my little video camera and followed him to see where he'd go. This is what happened next:
He ran through the house to the bedroom, jumped into the atrium window and into Bernice's bed, where he realized that there was no way out. When Bernice saw him, she stretched herself up as big as she could and challenged him as though she thought she was twice his size, when the opposite was true. At this point I was really only worried that the raccoon would hurt her somehow (half-asleep, I call Bernice "Olive", but she didn't notice). Hissing and swiping at him, she did her best to flush him out. His response? It seems he urinated in her poofy bed (you can hear it!) before making a dash back down the hall, into the upstairs "Rapunzel" room, out the open window and across the roof.
I love how Bernice ran after him with such conviction. That cracked me up. After the excitement was over, I shoved Bernice's poof into the washer, started it up and went back to bed (knowing full well that a raccoon had just sprinted across the sheets). Bernice kept vigil all night by my side, her neck stretched out like a meercat on security detail. There were no further incidents...
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