Bonnie and Clyde

photo courtesy Alena Ozerova 

If you are a soft hearted animal lover who gives bed space to furry beasts you may want to skip this blog.

 I am a reformed cat coddler. My last cat, Mellow Yellow, was my undoing. After I adopted him we discovered he had been tossed out in the cold for a reason. He was psycho. His mellow personality disguised an inner turmoil that required medication—a cocktail of Prozac and Prednisone. He was needy and he peed everywhere. But we loved him until he died and then we said, “No more!”

Ding, dong the cat is dead! The word went out and the mice moved in. Nothing we have tried has worked so we are cat-pitulating.

 When I talked to my cat donor, I didn’t ask her what they look like or if they have names. My questions were: Are they neutered, wormed and disease free? Are they serious about rodent patrol? How little feed do they need to keep them loyal and lusting for mouse meat? Yes, yes and a little kibble and water were the answers. My donor also volunteered that they are skittish but “nice.” Perfect! The transplant will occur Sunday after church.

To set the proper tone for the destructive irreverence we expect from this pair we’ve dubbed the duo Bonnie and Clyde. It doesn’t bother me that they are both male. (Well, they were. Now they are eunuchs who would rather munch vermin than yowl around looking for a fight—even better!) My sister says I can’t name a male cat Bonnie so to keep peace in the family we’ll say they are Bonnie Prince Charlie and his sidekick Clyde.

  

We’ll keep them locked up in the basement level of the house for a couple of weeks before we turn them out into the back forty. That’s where the mice enter the house anyway, so we’ll let them swagger around a bit down there and build a reputation.

I hope these are really ugly cats.