There’s a small walkway between the frontyard and the backyard, if you could really even call them yards. I was walking through the said walkway and noticed Kitty, the resident cat. A brief glance turned into a second look.
Kitty was eat a mouse/rat. It seemed too small to be a rat, but the tail was far too long to be a mouse. I think Kitty had devoured half of it by the time I walked by so it very well could have been a rat.
Colleen: Ew, disgusting! That’s gross cat.
Random girls in the backyard who don’t live here (have I mentioned that people come and go all the time?): Blank stares in my direction.
Colleen: Awkward laugh. The cat’s eating a mouse/rat.
Random girls: Slight giggles, still uncomfortably staring at me.
I proceed to go in the back door. I take notice of Halima in the doorway.
Colleen: Halima, the cat was eating a mouse/rat.
Halima: Oh, sore-ry. (Ugandans put a lot of emphasis on the first syllable of “sorry.”)
Colleen: It’s not your fault.
I continue inside the kitchen-ish area of the orphanage. I’m greeted by Auntie.
Auntie: Hands me a plate. Breakfast.
Colleen: Opens the plate. An omelet. Delicious, but did I mention that I just saw the cat eating a mouse/rat. Vomit*.
* I didn’t vomit. I only said that to add drama to the story, as a matter of fact I’ve not had any weird intestinal problems since I’ve been here. I downed the omelet as fast as I could while thinking about Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar before thoughts of the torn apart mouse/rat consumed my brain again.