I have heard that cats love to hunt and present their kill to their owners. And I did a little “research” (by that I mean I asked ChatGPT…) and this is what I got:
There are a few common explanations:
A. They see you as family – In the wild, mother cats bring prey back to their kittens to feed and teach them how to hunt. If your cat is bonded to you, it may treat you like a “clumsy kitten” and “offer” the prey as a way of sharing or showing off.
B. Your home is the safe zone – Cats bring their catch to a secure place where they can eat or hide it. To them, your house is that safe zone, so dropping the mouse or bird at your feet is like saying, “This is mine, and this is where I keep it.”
C. They’re proud (and want attention) – That dead “gift” is also a way of showing off. They value you enough to present their hard‑earned prize, and even if you scream or scold them, your reaction still gives them the attention they’re after.
With four cats, I’ve had my fair share of “gifts” from them. Lily and Louie are our regular hunters and providers, while Kobe is the one who only presents the gory kills. Tommy never bothers with all this theatrics. He hunted to survive last time—he’s had enough of it.
Here’s the list of “gifts” from my cats, ranked from least gross to scream‑into‑a‑pillow‑level:
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Moths & butterflies – Size ranges from tiny to quite big, and most of the time it’s acceptable. There’s no blood, and they’re not actually that bad to look at. Most of the time, they’re promptly eaten after a quick show‑off, so the whole ordeal is over before I can even be properly horrified.
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Insects (crickets, dragonflies, locusts, cockroaches, spiders, etc.) – Watching them fight for their lives is never pleasant. They’re usually half‑dead—still buzzing or moving—and the cats take ultimate pleasure in “playing” with them: swatting, pouncing, biting, swinging them around. To me, it feels like slow‑motion torture. The cat version of a horror movie.
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Frogs – Like the insects, frogs are never‑ending fun—for them. It takes longer to die, and they’re bigger, so the whole spectacle is drawn out and extra dramatic. The squeaking, the flopping, the cat staring at it like it’s a video game boss fight… it’s a lot.
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Lizards – From little household lizards to skinks, this is like watching a gladiator match. The skink fights back. It snaps, it darts, it tries to escape. The cats take turns poking, swiping, and tapping it, and every move is met with a tiny lizard counterattack. It’s a long‑drawn‑out battle that usually ends with me stepping in, grabbing the poor thing, and carrying it outside to release it. It’s not that I care about the lizard more than my own sanity; it’s just that the moral high ground feels better than guilt later.
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Birds – Tiny common brown birds, blackbirds, mynas, fantails—almost any small backyard bird in Victoria. A few times, I’ve woken up to find a dead bird and a pile of feathers in my living room or kitchen. It feels like someone dropped a horror scene directly into my home.
There was one time I actually saw Lily walk in with a big myna. I had never heard a myna scream in pain before. It sounded like a high‑pitched, siren‑like screech. I chased Lily around the house, got her cornered, and forced her to drop it. The bird was so traumatised it seemed paralysed; I carried it outside, put it on a patch of grass by the creek, hoping it'd regain its strength again.
- Mice & rats – This is the worst “present” to receive. Once, I walked past the lounge and found a decapitated mouse with a chewed‑off head. I have never felt more horrified—I actually ran away. Another time, Lily caught a big rat, its tail longer than its body. Picking up that dead rat gave me goosebumps and yikes doesn’t even cover it.
I know the cats meant well. For example, Louie loves to catch tiny bugs and call me over just to see and acknowledge his catch. Once I say, “Well done,” he’s satisfied, drops it, and leaves like he’s just clocked out of work. It’s sweet, in a deeply weird, disturbed kind of way.
Sometimes I feel like I’m turning into a psychopath or a serial killer for acknowledging their kills. And that’s another difference in owning a cat: you train a dog to do what you want, but a cat trains you to do what they want.