Pudder sauntered right past us and sat down over by the kitchen, where she proceeded to drop said item and hunker down as if to (gulp) gnaw on it. I, being the untutored cat owner that I am, leaped to my feet to get her away from it. She had it clamped back in her mouth by now; I scooped her up by her belly and had to admonish her into dropping it again.
There it lay, gray unmoving mouse on my living room floor. Meanwhile, I'm cuddling Pudder to keep her away from it, and I'm trying not to cry. I think this is where I should have praised her and been impressed with her hunting skills, because she obviously caught it and brought it into the house for me. But I was too distraught to have this reaction...maybe next time.
Jarad, gallant hero of mine, got rid of the mouse (it was dead, thank God...half-alive would have been even more awful) and I was able to put Pudder back down. She prowled around the house for a while, as if trying to find her newly captured prey. Eventually, she gave up and went back to hanging out on the stoop. No big deal, apparently - she was able to resume her normal activities, no problem.
I, however, may never be the same. My gentle, sweet, loving Pudder...a killer. Why did she have to go and remind me she's actually a cat? Why, Pudder, why?