The way this National Geographic clip makes it sound, the people who run an aquarium can just stick a couple likely hostile creatures in the same tank and see what shakes out. That can’t be accurate. Otherwise, I’m upset that I never considered a career in running an aquarium. That totally would have been worth the 10+ years of studying marine biology. As for the killing, this dogfish shark gets points for having the same name as an awesome brewery, but demerits are probably in order for getting owned by this octopus.

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In more mundane animal savagery, this morning I was just minding my own business, cranking out lazy Internet dick jokery when my cat strolls into my living room with a goddamn bird in her mouth.

Now, the extent of my cat’s outdoor exposure is the 20 sq. ft. of my balcony, so any bird that she’s catching has to be pretty fucking stupid, even as far as birds go. Being a cat, she does the asshole cat thing where she deposits the very much alive bird on the carpet, steps back a foot and waits for it to make a move so she can pounce on it again. She does this at least five or six times. I’m not interceding because this counts as the most interesting thing to directly happen around me most mornings. Blogger life is exciting, y’all.

I’m less concerned about the bird’s welfare than the fact that feathers are getting strewn all over my carpet and I’m probably going to have to clean up a bird carcass as well. That said, mad bird respect because Tweety was taking the beating like a champ., The cat tortured it for a good five minutes yet the bird was still able to take flight in its attempts to flee before getting pounced again. After a while I figure, fuck it, the cat’s just wasting everyone’s time now. You had five full minutes to kill the thing and you’re still dicking around. So I grab a couple rags, shoo the cat away and carry the clearly injured bird out to the balcony. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if the bird is too crippled to take off, but to my surprise it does. It’s not the most graceful flight, but the bird makes it 60 feet to the balcony across the way, where it proceeds to land and limp around pathetically. Sure, the bird’s probably still going to die, but it’s not my problem anymore.

Meanwhile, my cat was very much annoyed and meowing at me for depriving her of the kill. Whatever. Fuck off, cat. Let that be a lesson to you to next time hurry up and finish the job, Jean.