Portland Mercury Blogtown has some real gems sometimes.
“The cat was on the doormat when they (his parents) went to bed and heard some commotion.
“They saw a fox going up the drive later on that night, but didn’t think anything of it.
“Later that morning, they came out and there was fur and bits of the cat everywhere.”
Um, first of all, if you don’t want your cat to get snack-attacked by a fox, then maybe don’t leave it STEAMING ON YOUR DOORMAT LIKE A TASTY POT ROAST PORCH BUFFET. Put it in that big fox-proof box called a “house.” Dummies.
Secondly, so you’re out a beloved pet cat. That’s a shame. When I was five, my twin cats Victor and Keisha (yes, I named them that on purpose, no, I don’t remember why, yes, I am not normal) got devoured by a coyote. But did I run out and commit coyote murder? No. I was FIVE. Five-year-olds are terrible hunters. Instead, I got some new cats and moved on with my life. But YOU have an even better option, British person who knows how to do things like trap a fucking fox (question: are you also a chimney sweep?)! It’s called SNUGGLE TIME WITH MY NEW PET GIANT FOX. And if I know anything about animal souls (which I DO….n’t), I’m pretty sure that fox absorbed your cat’s memories when it ate its cat brain. Too bad you executed it. Your own cat. TWICE.
This has been Fox Talk™ with Lindy West.
………………………I can’t say I don’t agree.
cute photo via