Another cat story

Okay, so the other day, I'm outside on the deck with Evy because she wants to throw the ball. "Sure," I say, although I'd really rather not. So besides just the fact that it's hot and dirty outside and the cat keeps rubbing my legs getting hair all over them, I'm beginning to want to go in because, most of all, there's a horrific smell. A rotting, been out for too long kind of smell. I kind of glanced around to see what it may be but spy nothing. Thinking maybe it's just the remains of the bird that Tipsy left for us, though not sure how that's possible, I suggest to Evy that we go in and she rather surprisingly complied.
I decided to take one scary, hesitant, quick look around the corner of the deck to see what was left of the bird, if that's where the smell was coming from. Well, that was where the smell was coming from, but it wasn't the bird. Oh, no, kids, we had a new gift from our feline friend. It was a mouse. A somewhat large-ish mouse. I didn't look any further. I shuddered and rushed inside with Evyn.
I'm beginning to think Tipsy is not the right name for this obviously perfectly capable, tough cat. I mean, it doesn't convey her apparent ferocity. She's still cute and actually pretty sweet, but I wouldn't exactly say she falls in the innocent kitty category. Any suggestions for a good name?
Reed came home later and removed it (and a dead lizard she'd left) and hosed off the deck. Gross!! Thank God again for a big, brave hubby to do what I don't want to do!! Amen, girls?