What a mighty hunter you are! I adopted you six years ago, when you were already a year old, and you haven't forgotten a thing about killing small animals (or large ones) in all that time. When the pest treatment man finished his quarterly treatment of the house today, he hadn't shut the door to the garage very tightly. So, later in the day, when it popped open, of course you went to go investigate. I was in bed (day sleeper that I am), and I heard a most peculiar racket. Your collar tags and bell jangling up a storm, but without getting much closer to the bedroom, combined with a frantic, high-pitched squeaking. The squeaking stopped as you came into the bedroom, and I looked up from my rest to see an impressively large dead mouse on the floor near the foot of the bed. And you hadn't left a drop of blood anywhere, nor had the mouse even marked you. I was able to dispose of the critter without any fuss.
So thank you, my sweet pretty baby boy, for dipatching the heat-mooching mouse with such remarkable aplomb! A quarterly bug-spraying is a managable expense. A full-scale mouse extermination is quite another!