Hunting Fluffy

Here in Wisconsin hunting is a big deal. Not just a hobby to the locals, hunting is a way of life here. To some, hunting takes precedence over spending the holidays with children and immediate family.

Fluorescent orange is a popular fashion color choice among both sexes, and there are certain times of year you can see a sea of bright, jumper-wearing people armed like it's D-Day all headed north on the highway. A few days later, the opposite side of the highway is clogged with the same beer-logged and weary travelers headed back... This time proudly donning bloody, furry corpses atop their cars or in the beds of their trucks.

Hunting as a subject of the local news is not an unusual thing. There are the minor headlines, like seasons being extended. There are the inevitable bigger headlines when someone is accidentally shot, or someone goes "postal" while hunting.

But I have personally never seen the likes of this story ever before. Definitely a new one.

Seems an obviously chipper sort of fellow got a bee in his bonnet and decided, "Gee, Mrs. Potter's cat sure does pinch my johnnies when he plays with the BIRD FEEDER. Maybe we oughta pass a law to whack them kitties when they jump the fence." And got to work on having a proposal to have outdoor pets of the feline variety considered an unprotected species huntable under small-game hunting licenses.

Now, I've mentioned before my dislike of much in this culturally back-assward state. But this takes the cake. I mean I was here a year and I have to deal with some wacky-wonka chocolate factory serial-killing cannibal and then the coldest winter since the freaking ice age with wind-chills at eighty below zero Fahrenheit, and now they want to off Morris if he goes outside to pee and wanders next door?!?