It must be acknowledged. Cute and winsome and handsome as Bugs is, he is also a fierce predator.
I warn the tender-hearted amongst you that this post may not be suitable for all audiences. I’m by no means sure it’s suitable for me. So please feel free to surf off to your favorite kitten-eye-candy site, and come back and visit us here on our next post.
I include this one, however, in fidelity to my aim of facing what is with fortitude.
Regular readers know that Bugs is a lot of cat crammed into a small space.
So we continue to pursue leash-walking, as a strategy to get him outside and thereby enlarge his world. Every day I put him in the harness and we practice our come-along | OK stop right there technique. In the house only. Then I take him, in my arms, to the screen door, and stick his head out. That’s all the further we’ve got so far.
Progress is somewhat uneven, but measurable.
Before I begin — those who remember his “salamandering”? He forgot all about that, in the excitement of the following. He wasn’t quite as spry and fluid as he’d have been without the jacket – but he was definitely up on all four paws.
The other morning here’s what he pointed me to:
I’ve said it before:
We grow ’em big ‘n’ tall down here in Arkansas.
“Ma, I don’t think I can finish him. It’s like those all-you-can-eat steak things. >>Ergh.<<“
[Editor’s Note: Bugs is waiting for an appearance-invitation from Katnip Lounge. That should be one fine grudge match, over there. Watch this spot for ESPN narrowcast times. Off-track bets will be taken.]