The other night I noticed Winston joyously batting one of his toys across our kitchen floor. I had just given him a new catnip fuzzball, and I watched him peer under the fridge and run into the pantry. Then he batted the toy through the air, about four feet across the kitchen. But the object he batted through the air didn’t have the fluorescent pink and green of the catnip toy. This object looked long and tan. Did he have a bug?
I walked into the kitchen to investigate. The scorpion Winston had just batted across the room looked up at me. I grabbed Winston and bolted out of the kitchen while Greg came in to do battle. He sqaushed it with our Swiffer.
Winston missed the killing because I had quarantined him in our office. For the rest of the night, he just was not convinced the scorpion was gone. He spent about an hour roaming our kitchen, looking under the fridge and sniffing along the baseboards. He desperately wanted his toy back. I kept offering the catnip fuzzball to him, but he just walked away from me with his butt sticking up in the air. What fun is a little piece of cotton when you can play with a venimous insect?
We are incredibly grateful for Winston’s hunting skills. If it hadn’t been for his work, one of us — probably me — would have stepped on that hideous creature in the middle of the night.
Now Greg wants to get another cat so we have twice the military force. So far I think Winston can handle the insurgency.