We live in a small village in the countryside and mice are everywhere. Last summer I noticed dozens of holes in my yard, and I also caught occasional glimpses of mice scurrying about near and inside the unused barn, so when my wife announced her coworker had kittens to give away, I finally gave into my son's pleas for a pet - with the condition that the cat we brought home had to catch mice - otherwise . . .
My boy picked the little black kitten out the litter himself and we brought it home in April. Once the kitten was in the house, I told my kid to find a name for it. I expected him to rattle off something like Fluffy or Whiskers, but after a few minutes of contemplation my boy named the kitten Rebecca. Yes, Rebecca. He quickly added that we could refer to the kitten by the name's abbreviated form, Becky. This made me laugh because the words "be" (pronounced "beh") and ki (pronounced "key") mean "in" and "out" respectively in Hungarian. Thus, my son's choice of the name Becky reminded me of an old joke from childhood - the one about a poor, confused dog named "Come here - Go away."
In any case, Becky quickly made herself at home and to my absolute delight, has proven herself to be an exceptional hunter. She began hunting mice about a month ago and has managed to bag five already. Not bad for a seven-month-old cat. The photo above shows her proudly posing with her fifth mouse (and yes I do feel a little sorry for the poor mouse, but pests are pests). I imagine Becky's already impressive hunting skills will only improve with time, which increases the chances of having a mousehole free yard next summer. When all is said and done, I am happy I capitulated to my son's demands for a pet, not just because Becky has proven herself useful around the house, but also because she is somewhat of a character and adds considerable fun and happiness to our days.
There . . . obligatory cat post complete.