Household guardian, Brutus

Last night we were sitting peacefully on the couch, Brigid on Sean's legs, Zoe on my lap, we are watching TV, Sean playing on his computer (I guess it counts for a kind of multitasking, right?), I'm knitting on my current Jaywalker socks. Suddenly we hear Brutus burst in through the cat door (hopefully, it can only be Brutus, but it is SO unlike him, it usually takes him 15 attempts, lots of whining, scratching and pawing at the cat door and the screen door, and finally, timidly pushing the door open with his tender noodle). He gallops into the living room making his "I am lion, hear me roar" noises, that he only makes when he has fought and defeated some terrible monster (usually a gopher, but possibly rats, or felted catnip mice). I can see he has something in his mouth, but cannot tell anything except that it is still alive. He now has the interest of the two grrl cats, so the three go off to the corner, Brutus growling and showing off. Finally he puts down the fearsome creature. It's a Monarch butterfly. I get up and take it away from him, it is very much alive. I put it out on the deck in a flower basket. This morning it is still out there, probably writing an entry for it's blog, titled something like "my wild night."

We feel so safe, and protected. Brutus the Butterfly Slayer. Well, not quite slain.