Tom Ate Jerry.

It's widely known across the blogosphere that I'm the proud mother of a handsome young toddler, but I wear yet another mommy hat.  I am also maternal caretaker for Fancy the cat. 

For the sake of humor, my dog-like cat, Fancy, will be referred to in this post as Tom.  And the mouse in question (because there is one) will obviously be called Jerry.  Ya catch my theme?

    

That's beside the point just now though. 

As I was saying, Tom is a pleasure to have, a calming source with fur, and above all else, a most tolerant friend to my boy.  My

often-poking, whisker-yanking, tail-pulling, just-plain-curious boy.

Well folks, somewhere in the mix Tom's gone slighted, because our

twenty-pound cat is acting different.  For one, she's been urinating on Aksel's rug.  And last night, for example, whilst on an outdoor bathroom adventure, Tom ate Jerry.  No.  Let me get this right, Tom decapitated Jerry and displayed, most conspicuously, her rodent corpse on the doormat.

I understand this is normal feline behavior, but Tom usually leaves it to the imagination, or in the driveway, at least?!

Despite my gagging, I praised Tom for being such a skilled hunter, however, I'm concerned.

Should I leave ol' Tom outside for worry of germs, or should I just rub her a little more often?  Tom ate Jerry, and I know she's just asserting her familial seniority...



A Childhood Favorite:

 

Tom and Jerry

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