It’s 11pm on the east shore of lake Sammamish. I’m coding upstairs and my wife is sewing downstairs. We hear the cat door flick open and then silence. Then Kerry shouts up – hey is Joey chewing a bone up there? Um, no? Oh, because there are crunching sounds coming from somewhere down here.

So I find my cat in the downstairs bathroom about halfway through eating a rabbit he just caught. Not a mouse that looks like a rabbit or some sort of rabbitygroundhog thing but an actual fully grown bunny rabbit that weighed in at about 2 pounds.

Now, Kerry’s been vegetarian for 16 years, so she didn’t quite appreciate the heroic effort that must have gone into taking that sucker down. But me? I’m a meat eater. And my cat and I understand that what he achieved tonight is unbelievable. In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t road kill – I’ll spare you the gory details of how I know, suffice it to say it was still warm.

So I have a newfound respect for the Ziggers. The way I see it, if the shit really hits the fan with the US economy, he can hunt and I’ll cook.