One of our cats, Nigel, the kitten (he's about 7 months old and almost as big as his mother) is out playing. He and Cynthia (his mother) like to catch mice. No more than Tom does, I suppose, but they've all been doing a lot of it lately. Fortunately, they don't often bring them in the house. Cynthia, so far, reserves that for brown leaves.
Anyway, I called Nigel (who has a tendency to roam too far) and when I went to look for him again found him in the neighbor's yard with something small. The way he was after it, I figured it was a mouse. As I got closer, I thought perhaps it was a very small mouse. That wouldn't be a surprise. Cats are no more merciful to smaller prey than larger.
Imagine my amusement to discover that it was not a mouse, not even a very small one. No, it was a mouse's severed head. No idea where the body is, but I do find myself thinking of the movie Highlander... lying on the floor, next to his own severed head.