You may think he looks sweet and delicate, a pampered pet who couldn't even fight off a ...but wait - appearances can be deceiving. And if you have no idea where this is going, you need to scroll down three posts and start there.
This morning when I went down to the goat pen, I was horrified to see - oh wait, I'm getting ahead of myself again. Back to Benny...
Since Benny's humiliating and injurious run-in with a large (we hope) rodent last week, I have not allowed him to go outside. This caused him great distress, leading to hours spent howling at the back door until my husband finally bought a pair of earplugs for himself. I tried explaining to Benny about open wounds, the need to moniter his food intake, the danger that his fierce attacker was still out there and might prey on Benny's weakened state...Yesterday, unable to tolerate the incessant yowling and continuous attempts to escape every time the door was opened, I proposed a compromise. Benny would be allowed outside only in the mornings, when nocturnal predators are generally asleep and when I could keep an eye on him. Benny agreed. So, early this morning, as planned, Megan let him outside while I was making breakfast. After about an hour he returned, looking quite pleased with himself. He ate an entire bowl of food (back to his crunchy kind!!) and went to sleep.
Now I went down to the goat pen to see Em and Ellie. As I approached the gate carrying their pan of grain, they started dancing around the pen in anticipation...and that's when I dropped the pan (grain flying everywhere), staring at the grisly and horrific sight on the driveway, right outside the gate. Could the goats have done this? How? Why?
Directly where I would have to step to open the gate was what I believe had once been a moderate-sized rodent, decapitated and disembowled with all its parts neatly arranged in a straight line, but definitely still (once) a mouse. But goats are herbivores, and how had they gotten it over the gate...? And then I remembered Benny's smug grin when he came inside, and it all made sense. Feline revenge - as well as a direct message to me. The cats know how I hate finding their prey outside the back door (especially after an unfortunate episode involving bare feet and a lot of screaming at them) - and smart Benny knows where I spend most of my time anymore - he knew exactly the right place to leave his message - See, I can take care of myself out here - keep letting me out, Love, Benny the Fierce.
I turned back to the garage for a shovel and more goat grain.
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