Across Summerhill St. from my office window, there are two houses. The one on the left is higher, and a stone wall runs along the property line between them.
A little while ago, I looked out the window to see a white-faced cat (not Whitey) nestled under the shrubs on top of the wall. Not long after, a squirrel ran up the hill and into the shrubs at the base of the wall. A flurry of action ensued, and I saw the cat prancing back up the hill with a squirrel hanging from his mouth. (Or her mouth. For all I know she was taking lunch back to her kittens.)
Billy and Whitey were asleep and missed all this. Probably just as well. I'd rather the Mighty Hunters didn't develop a taste for fresh squirrel.
I don't know whether Emily was inspired by all this, or whether it's just coincidence that she went into Mighty Huntress mode soon after. She pounced on a Mylar crinkly and gleefully batted it around, even chasing it around the upstairs hall for a little bit. Of course she stopped as soon as she saw me watching. Oh well. Her secret is safe with me.