Cat Cricket

(Little Bear in foreground with Scooter looking on).

The other day, I found our youngest cat, Little Bear, pouncing on something and then covering it up in his mitten paws. The thing would slip away from between his toes. Ears pricked, green eyes glowing, Bear reared up on his hind legs and pounced again and again, like a miniature black horse.
He was trying to capture a small cricket, one of several that crawl their way into our house when the weather turns cold. The insect hopped across the linoleum floor and was still until Little Bear attacked again. It was the most fun I ever had standing still.
You can tell when a cat has not had to fend for itself. As much as the young cat reared and romped, the cricket kept getting away. The few times Bear caught it, he would sit there and peer into his paws, as if to say, “Now what do I do with it?
Scooter, our in-house feral cat, hails from different stock. He was born in the woods and spent his early life in a crowded shelter. Despite the care from the volunteers, he was (and still is) skittish but vulnerable to kindness. He was on the opposite the side of the room where Little Bear played with the cricket.
“Enough,” Scooter seemed to say. He skulked forward in a straight line to where the cricket had once again escaped Bear’s grip. Scooter stretched out a front paw and splatted the cricket on the floor, then drew it in to himself and crunch, crunch, ate it right down; as if to say to the younger cat:
Don’t play with your food. Eat it already.

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2 Responses to Cat Cricket

  1. Anonymous says:

    HAHAHA! “Don’t play with your food!” LOL! That was a good one!I experience the same thing between Cinnamon and Muffet! LOL!B

  2. Bevson says:

    Tonka was playing with a fly the other day when getting tired of it he walked away. The poor thing was buzzing about on the floor when Miss Winkie sidled up and ate it. She licked her lips afterward. Must have been yummy.

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