It took Frank a long time to learn to hunt, and many patient lessons given by Nikki. But now he seems to have got the hang of it. Now, if he would only stop bringing his food into bed...

Out on the island, the first week or so, the weather was quite wet, though warm. This is obviously good vole huntin' weather. Nikki loves the rain. Whenever it started to rain, she would rush out purring. Then she would come in and get into bed, soaking wet in the middle of the night. Very nice. At least she left her prey on the floor.

One night, I woke when Frank got into bed. He came stomping up beside my pillow, purring like a loud motor, and soaking wet. I started to stroke him, then said "eww, you're all wet" and turned my back on him. Then I started hearing the unmistakable crunch crunch of feline fang against vole venison. Sat up in bed, screamed at Frank and threw him off the bed. Fortunately, he took the vole with him.

But this was not a one-time occurence. Frank started bringing me voles in bed each and every night. He stayed at the foot of the bed after that first time, but I would often wake up in the morning with one or several carcasses in bed with me. If I woke up when he came in, I would throw him and his prey out of bed, but he would just not accept that Meowmie does not want a snack in bed in the middle of the night. I don't know where he got the idea that I do. He doesn't bring food into bed here in town.

I am quite proud of him, that he has finally learned to hunt, but what to do with the voles in the bed. I'm afraid he's too stubborn to stop once he has started this behaviour.

Copyright © Marina Kurten
July 28, 2002