The Kitten has spent the day rummaging around in the garage. She's been knocking things over. Mr Pedia has gone out several times to pick up the boards and tools she dislodged. "Well, she's doing something out there," he said.
I just learned what. She brought me her first dead mouse.
Note that she's never been outside and has, to my knowledge, not been shown the ropes by the rat-experienced semi-feral Cat. She detected, hunted, trapped, and killed this mouse all on her own. And then very proudly brought it to me on the living room sofa so we could play fetch with it. Ulp. The problem with a brainy cat is, um, stuff like this.
ETA: Uh. Mr Pedia, who is a) wearing his glasses, b) not hungover, and c) less squeamish than I, has examined the corpse and pronounced me very silly. It is a gray lumpy bird-corpse. What the hell was a bird doing in the garage? "We know our garage less well than we thought," he said to me.