Sable Monroe

There’s something deeply humbling about realizing your pet has been committing crimes in your own house while making direct eye contact with you.

People assume because I own a snake named Beelzebub, usually called Beelzy, that the snake is the household menace.

They are wrong.

The real criminal is an eight-pound cat named Luca.

This happened during Luca’s first month living with me.

I’ve had snakes for years, and feeding day is usually uneventful. Beelzy eats frozen feeder mice. They come cryosealed in plastic, and I thaw them before feeding. I had done this countless times before with no issue.

That day I took out two medium feeder mice and left them near Beelzy’s terrarium to defrost.

Normal.

Routine.

No concern.

About half an hour later, I came back to feed her.

No mice.

At first I thought I was losing my mind.

Maybe I thought I took them out but never actually did.

So I checked inventory in Beelzy’s freezer.

Down two mice.

Okay.

So I definitely took them out.

Now I’m confused.

I searched around.

Nothing.

No mice.

No wrappers.

No evidence.

Then a thought entered my head and I immediately rejected it.

Not Luca.

Not my cute Luca.

Not my Luca who had breakfast.

Not my Luca who had dry kibble, Sheba, treats, snacks, and access to a better healthcare plan than some humans.

Why would he eat frozen mice?

He isn’t starving.

He has options.

I remember asking whether cats would even do that if they weren’t hungry.

That was the day I learned that cats apparently do not operate under human economic principles.

Hours later, I found it.

One empty wrapper.

Under my treadmill.

Two tiny puncture marks.

Fang marks.

Case closed.

That day, an eight-pound cat consumed:

Two medium feeder mice.
Breakfast.
Wet food.
Dry kibble.
Treats.

Apparently because opportunities presented themselves.

Ever since then, feeding day requires security measures.

Now the thawing mice go into a Tupperware container.

With a paperweight.

Not because of the snake.

Because Luca remembers.

And to this day, if he sees me preparing Beelzy’s dinner, he appears convinced I am hiding premium snacks from him.

The trust never recovered.