In case you hadn't figured it out, we're hillbillies.
I glance down to see Miss Lemon saunter through, CARRYING A LIVE CHIPMUNK.
I tried to shoo her outside with it, but NO. She wanted to play with it INSIDE.
And she proceeded to begin to do so.
After an old-fashioned musical comedy interlude (lots of chasing and avoiding and dropping and squawking and yelping), I finally managed to fend her off and catch the chipmunk in a bread pan. And I brought it outside and put it down by the woodpile, and figured I'd let nature take its course.
But, of course, then I saw that he was all messed up and I felt bad for him and so when Lemon found him again I thought that it might be better for her to just kill him. But, like many other cats, SHE'S LIKE A FOUR-LEGGED, FURRY DEXTER MORGAN.
So, after a few minutes of THAT—with us watching in utter horror—Josh went inside and got the gun.
And so our burn pile will be a rodent funeral pyre.