Every night, after we've gone to bed, my cat Watson likes to carry his small stuffed "green guy" toy around and make crying-mew sounds. We hear him mewing on the first level for a while until he eventually comes upstairs with the green guy and presents it to us by dropping it on the bed. He is so proud of himself.

"Good job buddy," I say and scratch him behind the ears before he snuggles into my side for the night.

As the weather has gotten colder, Watson's nighttime green-guy-hunting has evolved. Instead of presenting us with the green guy, one evening he dropped a half dead mouse in the middle of our bed.

Nice.

I live in a very old house. It was built in 1895. So it's no surprise that every winter, Watson will occasionally find a mouse in the basement.

As my husband reached for the mouse, Watson snatched it up and ran away with it. The hunting trail is now lead by Watson, followed by my husband who is being chased by the dogs that are totally delighted by this impromptu midnight came of chase. I stay in bed and shut off the light. Eventually, Brian gets the mouse and everyone comes back to bed.

Recently, Watson presented us with another mouse. This time, however, he sat a few feet from the bed torturing the poor grey thing. Brian slowly crossed the room, speaking softly to Watson so he wouldn't bolt. As Brian got closer, Watson snatched up the mouse, leaving only its tail sticking out of his mouth. Brian grabbed the tail and Watson began to pull backwards. It was literally a game of tug-of-war that Watson was determined to win.

We don't want to scold Watson for bringing us his "gift." But we don't want to find the occasional dead mouse lying discarded on the living room rug. So we've worked out a system that when he brings us a mouse, we praise him and then feed him some soft food. Watson drops the mouse without a battle, we put it outside, everyone is happy. Except the mouse.

Watson's nighttime jaunts are certainly a way for him to fulfill his hunting instincts. I'm guessing that by bringing his half-dead kill to us, that is also fulfilling some nascent instinct. But I like to think that he is showing his affection—even if it is a tad gross.