Benson was very proud of himself for catching a gecko earlier this week. Usually he works himself into a frenzy trying to jump up and knock them off the ceiling. Lavash hangs back, watches, and gets the critters when Benson’s not looking. Thursday, he got one all by himself, probably because Lavash was asleep. The little gecko had made its way to the floor and was under one of our armchairs when Benson pounced and got it. The kids were fascinated that the gecko had dropped its tail (in two parts, actually). Sometimes, that distracts Benson, but not this time. He carried his little snack off to a corner, growling at us all to keep back (not that gecko is in our regular diet) while he enjoyed the treat.
Benson has had to work his way up to catching gecko. Last year, he was practicing (unsuccessfully) on the mud wasps that made their way inside. He’s already an expert at hunting eggplant, green beans, bok choi, sweet potato greens, and avocado. There’s certainly something about foundling cats and their diet; it seems to be a case of “is that (sort of) edible? Nom.”
Lavash still hunts for pieces of bread, and will sometimes knock glasses over to get at the last few drops of milk in the bottom. When she was younger, she would also hunt for spinach, to include nosing the lid off the salad spinner and flicking a leaf or two out with her paw. Now, she’s graduated to hunting clothing, making herself at home on any articles of clothing that find themselves on the floor, even momentarily. Here she is, on my kilt jacket after we came home from the Marine Ball and I foolishly left it on the ground so I could wash dishes: