Somebody shot our cat. . . .

Oh brother.

I just got back from out-of-town to find out that "tiger", one of our barn cats was found all shot-up, half-dead in the back pasture.

Tiger had both her ears pierced by buckshot and her left rear leg was completely shattered. I suspect that a neighbor caught her raiding their chicken coup and blaster her ass.

Penny found her and rushed her to the vet for emergency care, and Tiger is now one of the most expensive barn cats in Franklin County

Now, I've never care for Tiger, ever since I heard a scream in the barn a few months back.

I went to investigate and found a cute bunny (like "Thumper" in Bambi), screaming bloody murder. Tiger was nonchalantly munching on Thumper's entrails, ripping-out hot bloody sections of fresh bunny chitlins.

You see, Tiger is a big-time hunter, and Thumper was way too big for her to break the neck, like she has done with thousands of mice and rats.

It was over 5 minutes before “the silence of the bunny” started, and Tiger could enjoy her hot meal in peace. (BTW, she always leaves the fur, and Penny hates having to scrape-up bunny parts every day).

Anyway, Tiger is now a our house-guest, clomping-around with a hard cast on my hardwood floor like something out of a Poe story (ka-thump, ka-thump). She has so much buckshot in her that she is magnetic (really, I not making this up), and the x-rays show look like the stars on a summer night, with hundreds of white dots on a pitch-black background.

We moved her into the Sun-room because she cannot jump-up high to get the litter box (the dogs were raiding her litter box for hot treats). Tiger is well, and bunny’s all-around Franklin County are happy that she is imprisoned for awhile. . . .