I heard this sound and sensed a black furry cat running in. I thought it was George -- returning from a trip foraging neighbors' BBQ grills -- a hobby he has take up this summer. Then, I head a loud *crunch* -- looking over, prepared to take a chicken bone away fro George, I saw Carmine, crouched over this rat. He had already eaten one front leg by the time I bribed his mouth to a pile of Feline Greenies and whisked poor Rattie (RIP) off to the compost bin with a pair of metal tongs. Carmine don't play - he sees his prey, kills and eats it as fast as he can. Neither George nor Dobs had any idea this happened and my poor sweet Carmine spent the rest of the night sniffing around the potted plants and furniture to see where the rat had gone.