This morning, Ken found and disposed of a medium-sized dead rat that was wet & chewed (but whole, thank God) in what we now refer to as "Oliver's Lair of Doom" (a.k.a. the basement). This is rare behavior for our fuzzy friend since we've trained him to believe that food comes from an automatic electric dispenser and has nothing to do with "instincts" "hunting" or "one's place in the food chain" but everything to do with "is it 4 'o clock"?
The only other time that we've found a small creature meeting tragic ends via Oliver is when our good friends Sean and Shannon visited this house for the first time. We were showing them around and as we descended into the basement, I said, "Over there is the entertainment center and karaoke machine. Over here is my Mulan movie poster. And, oh look a dead bird. In pieces."