Protect This Mouse

In spite his dutifully good manners and slight sashay, Ishmael knows how to be a feral beast.  

Sometimes it is him swiping a neatly tied beef tenderloin ($57) off the counter and then letting the blood drip down his chin as he swings it from side to side. 

(I washed the piece he didn't eat and retied it, thank you very much.)

But, more often, he runs around proudly with a piece of "can I have a little to-go bag for my cat?" tuna sashimi hanging out of his mouth or an Ishmael-size portion of the center of Mommy's ribeye.

Twice, however, he's had the joy of hunting and killing a mouse and then playing "keep my [prize] away from Mommy."  

This includes:

1.  Hiding the mouse under the ottoman and then sauntering casually away as if nothing's happened.  

2.  Maniacally throwing the mouse into the air and then swinging his arm like a bat about 5 times in a row.  

3.  Attacking Mommy like a wildebeest with no recognition of the parental-cat bond in hopes of keeping the [prize] for a little bit longer.

Wait, what?  There is a mouse by my bottom?