A wee small meal in the wee small hours
Last night Trilby, who usually sleeps quietly on my bed for most of the night, was doing a lot of running about and squawking downstairs. →
[More:]At about 2:30 I got up to go get him, and found him in the bathroom crouched on the bathmat, making strangely muffled squeaks. Thinking he had been stricken with some ailment, I picked him up and held him in front of me in order to have a good, near-sighted look at him (I didn't have my glasses on), only to be confronted with the sight of the dead mouse that was in his jaws, inches from my face. I shrieked and shuddered convulsively but somehow managed to put him down rather than dropping him.
I thought he might not want breakfast this morning because he had feasted during the night (I wonder if he caught more than one mouse because he seemed in no particular hurry to eat the one I caught him with) but he insisted on being served breakfast as usual. At present he's curled up next to me, sleeping the sleep of the satiated.