Dear Kit

I brought her inside to remind her that I'm still around and she ignored me and watched for live things to make dead.

 Dear Kit, 

You are a ruthless killer. The immediate two meters of bush surrounding the trailer (ie: the throwing distance of a shrew) is a graveyard. I thought the ol' bell on collar trick might give the local wildlife a fighting chance, but I'm now afraid I have created a stealth ninja cat. 

And don't can't claim that you do it because you are hungry - you don't eat shrews. Other than being dead, they are left totally unscathed. Not even a foot missing. And the few mice that you find and eat end up like this:

Kit puke.

And look. Cat food chunks amongst the carcass. What's wrong? Cat food ain't cutting it? You need to wash it down with an entire mouse?! 

Dear Shrew,

Thoroughly dead shrew.

You didn't even try, did you? I've seen it before, and you're all the same: as soon as you see or hear wildecat, you accept death. Remember the shrew I tried to save? As soon as it could, it ran straight back to her. Stupid. I suppose this is the circle of life. Natural selection. You didn't make the cut.