I think the cat needs to go back to the shelter.
I was sitting at the kitchen table minding my own business when he hopped in through his special door and announced his presence in a sort of growly way. Turns out he couldn’t meow because there was a MOUSE IN HIS MOUTH which he lovingly deposited at my feet and turned to look adoringly at me as though I should give him tuna treats for such a bountiful gift.
Give me flying rabid vampire bats, give me needles in my eye, give me triplets, give me ANYTHING except for a rodent on the loose.
I did what any rational person would do and ran screaming from the room. Sadly, my offspring did not jump to my rescue until I pulled out cold hard cash and waved a $5 reward to whomever would take it out of the house. Baby A decided that five bucks was enough to get over his heebie jeebies, and took the offensive rat from Hades outside and threw it into the yard.
Where it was promptly rescued by the cat and brought back into the house less than three minutes later.
Read the paragraph above to see what I did again, and this time, realizing he had significant leverage in the situation, my child negotiated a bigger fee for disposal.
And his father’s son.
Have a nice day.