My mice escaped from time to time, and I am sure Sugar took care of them. Sugar was an adept and successful hunter, living in the days when cats were allowed in and out when they pleased. I once saw him walk casually across the patio and without pausing leap into the air landing in the ivy upon a mouse. His most infamous hunting exploits all involve bringing litters of babies to us, one by one. There was a possum story my mother used to tell, where Sugar brought her one after another baby possum. She had some sort of punch line about encountering the possum mother herself, but I can’t say what it was. The better story involves the Presbyterian church-goers walking to Easter Sunday services, while Sugar dispatched a litter of screaming baby rabbits.
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