As you probably know, Monsieur Oscar lives in a bijou apartment in Paris with his doting human parent.... My daughter.
Beautiful tabby, totally spoiled and in her eyes, can do no wrong.
That was until the other weekend.
Having been let out for his usual wander round the courtyard one morning...he returned...highly vocal, vocal enough to ring alarm bells that something was a little different this time.
She opened the door and in he ran, pleased as punch with his "prize"
Straight into the bathroom he went and with quick thinking she shut the door on him.
Plucking up courage, she eventually peeked her head around the door, to find he had dispensed with his prey....which was now lying motionless on the bath mat.
But what to do with it?
She rang me!
"I can't pick it up... What should I do?"
We finally agreed rubber gloves, kitty poop scoop thingy and a plastic bag to tip it into would be the answer.
Dispatched to the dustbin outside and it was gone.
Result.....One traumatised daughter, one chuckling mother and a very bad cat!