Friday, August 9, 2013

The Mighty Hunter

First of all let me warn you. This post contains graphic images, so if you tend to queasiness, hysterical outbursts or uncontrollable sob attacks, you should tread carefully now.
I usually recommend the old "looking through your fingers with your head slightly turned away from the screen" approach.

Meet Stevie. Quite a handsome dude with his big eyes. Don't let that fool you. He may look like the kind and sweet guy next door, but Stevie has a talent that I can only admire. A manly talent. An archaic talent. It makes me want to beat my chest and howl to the moon together with him. Too bad I am neither a gorilla nor a wolf (although Mom says that in my younger days I used to howl to the moon a few times ... I can't remember that, must have been my werecat phase).

Stevie is a hunter. I can see you looking each other, thinking that isn't unusual for a feline. Stevie isn't an ordinary hunter, though. The game he keeps taking on day after day after day is much more dangerous than a little mouse or even a rat.
He's facing certain death every day, but never stops in his efforts to keep his people and his cat pals safe.
Let the pictures speak for themselves.

"I've got its tail!!!"
"You can come closer now, it's dead alright."

The fiendish enemy - beaten.

"They get bigger every day, but I won't let that stop me!"
Last breath

Another one bites the dust

"You only got what you deserved, but you did put up a good fight."
Ready for the taxidermist

Saturday, August 3, 2013

We are doomed

Step by step Buster is taking over the place. It was a while ago already that he put up his little bunny flag (a carrot on a green background) in the kitchen, in the bathroom, even in the toilet. Tiles are no longer the way to keep out the might bunny explorer.
There are only two more white spots on his map, one is the room behind the kitchen which is home to two of our litter boxes, the other one are the stairs in the office.

Yesterday however Buster put his little (virtual) helmet on and went to conquer the stairs. As you can see, I was not quite sure about what was going on here.

Mom cut me out of the next picture in which I did a big jump over him, all she caught was an annoyed looking tail. The stairs have been mine from the very beginning and I shared them most generously with my pals. Buster didn't even ask, though! Of course the reason could be that his meow is really bad, practically non-existent.

He came as far as three steps up which didn't amuse Esme who had retreated there to have a bunny-free catnap. Unfortunately our home photographer was too slow once again, so you'll just have to believe me.