This is my cat, whose official name is Schrödinger, but who is better known as Big Cat (as opposed to Little Cat), or also, on a regular basis, as Idiot Boy. In general he eats a lot, lies around a lot waiting to eat, meows about not having enough to eat, and, when he is really feeling up to it, looks at me affectionately and rubs my legs ... hoping he'll get something eat from all that effort.

In summary, he is a cat.

Big Cat has a history of escaping the house, and disappearing into the woods for days at a time. In Squamish, that is a feline death sentence. The bears, cougars, coyotes, eagles and even raccoons in general have the upper hand (I know this from experience ... RIP Psycho ... ).

I have seriously mourned Idiot Boy's impending death at least three times already. Although, in doing so, he has certainly lived up to his name ... no idea if the damn cat is dead or alive, just a bigger box and no poison concoctions ...

But a couple weeks ago, after having escaped out the back door yet again, he came trotting up a few hours later, explanation of his continued survival in the Squamish wild in mouth ...

... which, after waiting for the poor thing to croak, he proceeded to completely devour, leaving behind a tail and a few feet.

All of the sudden I had a newfound, if not slightly nauseated, respect for Big Cat.

Mouse. It's what's for lunch.