This morning, under the porch, sitting next to the broom next to the lower half of a mouse was a small pile of regurgitated meat. Up to now, I always thought only big cats would hoard left-over kills for a rainy day. Following that thought is a sense of relief, knowing that lions, et al never evolved the attributes needed for domestication. I'd have a very difficult time explaining the presence of a partially-eaten neighbour in my front yard.
I'm sure they had a great night of hunting, and it'd be rude not to share, but we hairless apes live on a different kind of diet. And Sisters #1 and #2 are a bit more squeamish than I am. The last gecko they brought home sent Sister #2 into an angry, insecticide-spraying frenzy - to no avail, I should add.
As I was disposing of it, Cleo and the other black cat (whom I shall label "Cloud") walk past the gate. I quickly conclude my business, clean up, lock the gate and drive off to work. If it was their doggie-bag that I'd just dumped, I do not want to be near either one when they're hungry. At least they'll be able to eat. My appetite, meanwhile, checked out for the rest of the morning.