The other white meat

Sunday evening, I made carpaccio for M and me for dinner. I know, making carpaccio is a little like dry cleaning...you don't really DO anything, you just display it real nice. Nonetheless, M and I had a lovely supper of it with arugula, cherry tomato salad with fresh Parmesan shavings.

We were watching the end of the first (and only comprehensible) Pirates of the Caribbean movie with the kids. They were eating macaroni and cheese out of the box. They weren't eating it out of the box, but it was the variety that comes in a box. Ew. Fluorescent orange cheese is wrong wrong wrong. I've been trying to convert the kids to the frozen variety, made with real milk, real cheese and of a natural hue, but no go.

Anyway, the kids were sitting at the fireplace, their designated eating zone outside of the kitchen, and M and I were hunched over our plates. In case you're wondering about my parenting skills, and let's be honest, you should be, we only eat in front of the TV on Fridays and Sundays. Friday night is movie night, and it's a fun treat to eat in the family room (kids on the hearth only) and we eat a fun dinner followed by popcorn during the movie. However, M and I are un-fun parents, and there is a bedtime, even on Fridays. So, if the movie goes long, or we get a late start, the movie has to be continued on Sunday. Not Saturdays, because that's when M and I try to go out. So, to bring you back up to date, it's Sunday, because the first Pirates movie is like 10 hours long when broadcast on ABC Family with commercials, even if we fast forward through them.

Cat is sitting outside the door. He's chewing on something. A closer look reveals a baby squirrel. Oh, fantastic. Squirrel carpaccio. Ugh. My appetite sank down to Davy Jones' Locker. I go outside to find that Cat, has in fact, gone all Jeffrey Dahmer on Sunday: 2 snakes, a blue jay, and aforementioned squirrel.

This is what happens when he manages to get his bell collar off. Death, dismemberment. (Actually, I don't think the snakes can be dismembered, since they have no, um, members.)

What the hell? (In case you're wondering--that's a tail. Apparently, the only inedible part of a squirrel.)

We feed the cat. Actual cat food. From a bag and/or a can. A lot. Good, healthy food and water, and the occasional leftover meat from dinner. We have provided a reasonably psychosis-free environment for the cat. In short, as parents, we have done nothing specific to raise a murderous freak. Yet, he killed representatives from the major animal kingdoms: reptile, bird and mammal. Clooney was looking mighty nervous.

That's the part that's so disturbing--the cat is killing for the hell of it. We have no assurance that he won't turn against us! Despite our affections, hospitality and substantial food budget. We've failed as cat parents! Right now, our kids seem normal-ish. But what if they decide that they're more like their feline pet than their canine pet? What if they're not all sweet and loyal and earnest, but instead grow up to be sadistic indifferent raw-squirrel eaters?

This is not good precedent. That's all I'm saying.