We have a lot of geckos around our house. A few of them manage to find their way into our house. This is the dumbest thing any gecko could possibly do because lurking inside my home are two furry little hunters. They think that geckos are God-given toys created just for them.
If a gecko is lucky, it will be hunted in sight of me or Ruf. When we find our little hunters huddled around something, we always know to check it out because it probably means that some poor creature has been cornered and is about to be tortured. The past couple of weeks have been especially joyful for our cats because several geckos have found their way inside, and we have not witnessed most of their hunts to take away their new toys.
How do I know about the hunts I don't witness? Well, the boys seem to enjoy playing a little Gecko Hide-and-Seek with me when they're done torturing the poor things. This means that each week when I clean house, I find their hiding places. Last week I found a dead gecko shoved under the rug in the entryway, and another was left for dead under the litterbox. I also find several tails that the little guys have dropped in their fear.
This week's victim was discovered in the guest bathroom. I sighed and swept the poor little thing up, but then it moved. Hallelujah! I could save someone! I scooped the little guy up in my hands, and I deposited him outside on the porch. He was scared, looked half dead, and he's missing his tail, but he's alive. I managed to get a somewhat-blurry picture of the saved:
And now you see the sort of excitement that is life in my house. I'm now headed off to give my little torturers yet another lecture about being nice to other living creatures. As usual, I expect they will tune me out and stalk off to await yet another victim.