We have a new, and somewhat psychotic, kitten. The primal hunting/sneaking up/attacking instincts are quite strong. I have the scars to prove it.
Right now, he's too little to leave outside. There are too many predators around here who would love nothing more than to make a snack out of him (we miss you, Yankee and Sox). So he's getting pretty spoiled to being indoors. Little does he know, he will soon have a job to do. He was acquired solely for the purpose of mice-catching. Don't let me down, James.
He ventures outside occasionally, when we are out there to ward off any hawks, owls, coyotes or mountain lions. Today, as soon as he stepped out the door, he made a b-line for the tree. And what a good little climber he is!
Can you see him? He blends in so well with the tree bark.
He's very good at going UP. But not quite sure how to come DOWN.
So he just keeps climbing...
...and climbing...
...and climbing...
James. I'm serious. Don't make me come up there.
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