He stalks and low crawls across the space. Eyes wide and focused upon his prey, a millions years of instincts throbbing through his brain and sleek body. His toes and claws flex with the coiled anticipation of a hunter predator.
In a sudden burst of energy and blinding speed he launches his attack, at the last moment I pull up on the bait and he springs three feet high into the air front claws extended! For the next fifteen minutes the three month old still a kitten, and I engage in our twice a day ritual dance, a sparing inspired and facilitated by a little feathered stuffed toy blue bird on a sting, and I the puppet master.
His resolve is limitless, he will never quit, in pursuit he springs and jumps circles in mid air until I eventually end the affair for his own good, when he begins to pant mouth open. Then it is cat nap time. Sometimes for us both.
The Christmas gift kitten from my children, bringing joy and laughter long after the Holladay event. My old dog loves the little fellow too. I penned this for my grandson Cooper as he loves to watch that cat chasing and jumping for that bird toy too.