Jonah Goldberg writes:
As my wife and daughter were heading out the door this morning, to send the wee one to school, I heard the fair Jessica say “What does Gracie have in her mouth?” Gracie, if you recall, is the under-discussed cat that has joined the Goldberg Household (in the face of countless grievances filed by Cosmo the Wonderdog with the union, Amnesty International, and various other agencies, religious and civil).
Gracie likes to take a morning constitutional in the front yard. Often she and Cosmo will share space on the front porch, a canine-feline vigilance committee, that amuses the neighbors but humiliates our dog.
Anyway, my daughter responded, far more matter-of-factly than I would have ever guessed, “Oh, a chipmunk.”
Before they could close the door, Gracie brought the poor creature into the house. My wife yelled, “Daddy, Gracie has something for you” or some such and sauntered out the door...
Of course the cat dropped its prize so now they've got a chipmunk running free under the couch, and behind the TV. Which is exactly what happened with our dog. Except he brought a possum into the house.
Ever seen possum teeth? Well, I wouldn't trade a dozen angry chipmunks for one sleepy possum.
So, in the wild animals released into the house category, cats have it over dogs. Point conceded. Though to be fair, I had a hand in the possum kerfuffle. Spot, the Jack Russel, wouldn't have dropped his prey if I hadn't whacked him on the head.
Lucky for me, I happened to have a broom stick handy (having just used it to whack a dog) and the possum was chased out the back door after a mere 20 minutes of terror and broken lamps. So I guess all's well that ends well.