Living in the Moment....

Something in my house dying! Eeeeew! Will the cats never stop dragging dead things in here? Still warm, and bloody, bits of Rabbit; Voles, Rats, mice (which I like almost as much as I like bunnies... they are so cute), and birds parts (feathers, feet, beaks) are stashed in impossible to find places. Left to rot and stink....Sometimes the odd garter snake, but mercifully, Basil rarely kills them. Just bats them about and makes a fuss so I will notice what a fearless and masterful hunter he is! O.M.G! I noticed, I noticed!!! Stop already! I take the snakes, which I like very much, outside to the garden, reproaching them for being complacent in a yard with nasty cats, and reminding them to be more careful, and thanking them for catching bad bugs, like spiders that bite. I tell Baz sternly, "Dont hurt Mama's snakey snakes!!!" He looks at me briefly, with utter boredom, and demands his supper... As a result of his stashed murder-death-kills, I have flies. Big, stupid, slow-buzzing death-flies everywhere. IN MY HOUSE! Disgusting. Gods help me, my house is a morgue! Some mornings I get up and am jolted rudely awake (before coffee!!!) by a strategically placed gall bladder squishing nastily between my bare toes. Baz, the Super-hero serial varmint murderer leaving his signature calling card. I should write a comic strip about him. He is a scary uber-predator. Totally upsets my Buddhist leanings, and puts me off meditating in the morning because I am completely overcome by guilt-by-association. How can I meditate and become one with Spirit when I am harboring a murder-death-kill machine? (Seriously, tell me... comments and advice welcomed! I am trying to be heroically Zen about it... but am failing fantastically). Meanwhile, at this moment, Baz is relaxing on the railing of the back deck, catching the last rays of evening sunlight, in resplendent cat Nirvana. He is content. Smug, even. He does his job well and knows it. He is handsome and charming, and sexy, and knows that too. A tall, red-headed muscle-bound warrior. He keeps house and hearth clean of vermin, and with great magnanimity (being a generous kind of Soul, and a good family provider) offers the beloved two legged an entire, intact morsel of the day's catch... like the wee vole I found before the front door when I came home this evening. He means well....I am an artist too, but sometimes I dont get his installations, hieroglyphics, cryptic-concept-art comments right away (slow Human). He's a Cat, ergo, a genius, and in his own stratosphere of communication. I have to work to keep up with him. So it takes me a bit of time to work out his code.... Finally, with great relief, I realize now that the icky Gall bladders are clearly meant for the dogs.