How is it that one brother--and let's face it: not the bravest or most adventurous of the two--excels at mouse catching, while the other brother can only trot alongside on the proud march from room to room (and onto the bed at 5am) wishing it were him with the mouthful of mouse?
Maybe the success of the hunt relies on more of this...?
(patient watching under the stove for hours, not blinking, not even to be wooed away by treats)
...and less of this...?
Honestly, I take more pride in ability to induce squees while sleeping than in presentation of prey in the bed at 5 am. Both skills, though, are clearly hard-wired. As is my skill of screaming in terror while simultaneously procuring a plastic container to carry and release the prey outside.
Sorry, Pickles. We have different ideas of what one does with mice.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Oh man, look at that fuzzy belly. Maybe Ginger is trying to kill the mouse with cuteness? Though I suppose cats don't appear cute to a mouse...
I appreciate that Mr. P didn't show off his mad skillz while we were there.
Post a Comment