Huntin' beans...

Today, Jupiter Jones made his first real kill. Everyone please pause to celebrate the glory of this auspicious occasion.

(pause)

This morning, I had the door that leads to the deck open for a while. Yes, there is a screen, but there's just enough of a crack that the large creepy things so prevalent in the South during the summer could get in. However, it's cooled off, so certainly no creepy things could get in, right?

This afternoon, as I was about to run out on errands, I noticed young Jupiter Jones striding through the living room like a little lion. And I do mean striding - - he had adopted a proud, powerful walk, almost stomping his oversized paws, and had his head held high. He was looking around like he meant so much serious business, more than anyone had ever meant before in the history of serious business. There was a large green thing in his mouth.

I wondered what it could be. He has no green toys. Then I wondered where he might have gotten a green bean, and played with the idea that it was much more likely a pea pod. The mental grocery inventory I went through in about two seconds verified that we don't have green beans or pea pods on hand, so I was puzzled as to just what the kitten had until he plopped it down in the middle of the floor and began to eat it.

It was the biggest damned grasshopper I have ever seen in my life. He ate all but the head, part of a hind leg, and a wing, and then paraded off like a victorious little gladiator. I hopped up off the couch and stood on one leg for no apparent reason (when in shock, I think I am a flamingo, maybe) while marveling at the size of the head of the thing. The head! It was about the size of a nickel! And then I popped into cleanup mode, grabbed a paper towel, and went to pick up the remains.

Jupiter attacked me. Apparently I was not to dispose of the remains. I don't know if he wanted them as a snack for later, or if he was planning to stow them as trophies (he's a hoarder), but he made it amply clear that I was NOT to touch what was left of his grasshopper. Waving a toy with one hand to distract him, and whistling at him every time he decided to ignore the toy and slap me, I finally got up every last remaining bit of that gargantuan thing. It went into the trash compactor, in front of which Jupiter stationed himself for a good while.

He's since forgotten about the grasshopper, thank goodness. And I hope he savors the glory of this first kill for the rest of his life, and never brings anything like that into the house again.