Cats are God's way of showing us not everything in life has a purpose

The cat has me well-trained.

Whenever he wants to go in or out (usually several times in the middle of the night since he needs to catch up on his sleep during the day...and besides, who wants to go outside in 90-plus degrees in mid-summer?) all he has to do is come yowling at my second-story bedroom window (to be let in), or yowling outside my bedroom door (to be let out). Sometimes I try to ignore him outside my door, hoping if I put my pillow over my head he'll give up and yowl outside someone else's door. Unfortunately, he seems to have figured out how to reach a paw up to the doorknob and turn it after several attempts and lots of scratching at the door, ensuring I'm already wide awake. Once the door swings open with a rather loud clanging sound, he prances in the room continuing his annoying yowling and jumps onto the dresser beneath his favorite window until I open the screen to let him out on the roof, whereby he descends to his happy hunting grounds by way of a large tree.

Thus he did the other night post-hail storm. The roof was still very wet and had several inches of marble-sized hail on it, so I assumed he wouldn't want to go outside. He wanted out, so I let him out onto the roof. About five minutes later he evidently decided he would prefer to be inside, so he yowled to be let in again. A few minutes later he must've had another change of heart, so he yowled to go out again (perhaps hoping the hail had melted?) At this point, I decide enough was enough and I would never get any sleep if this continued. I decided to lock him in the downstairs laundry room where the only one who could possibly hear his plaintive cries for help was the dog, who wouldn't really notice anyway. This I did, but since we were out of cat food, and he wasn't going to be able to obtain his nightly ration of baby bunnies, I actually gave him half a can of tuna to ease the pain.

The next night he came to my room as I was reading in bed and asked to be let out the window, which I did and went back to my reading.

Not fifteen minutes later he was back at the window yowling to be let in again. I thought this was rather odd since the weather was nice and he hadn't been out long, but I figured he'd have to spend another night locked in the laundry room. I opened the screen to let him in and he jumped into the room quickly...with a baby bunny in his mouth.

I gasped (expletive deleted) and he dropped the (fortunately dead) carcass at my feet. Was this a gift to thank me for the previous night's delicacy? Or was this a warning of future carnage to come if I threatened his nightly freedoms again? After all, the screens are now ripped to shreds, (thanks to the hail storm). And because we don't have air conditioning we sleep with the windows OPEN.

Needless to say, we (that is my knight-in-shining-armor husband) bagged the dead bunny and I locked the kitty in the laundry room for yet another night of solitary confinement.

The next morning upon being freed he promptly left me some baby bunny guts on the front stoop which we affectionately call the "altar of sacrifice."