Our kitty Smog, who we once thought so injured that he would never be able to jump, has been amusing himself by racing up and down the plum tree.
Unlike Cardigan, he's not hunting. He's just got more energy than any of us know what to do with. The backyard boys and Linguine seem to find Smog pretty annoying, because all he wants to do is play Chase Me. Smog's internal monologue goes along these lines:
"CHASEME CHASEME CHASEME CHASEME !!! Okay, now I chase you. I'm ... sneaking ... up ... on ...you ... Sneeeeeeeeeeaking... Sneeeeeeeeeeaking... Sneeeeeeeeeeaking... I'm gonn-nn-nn-nna pounce. OH BOY! Now you chase me! Hey, is that a string? OH BOY! I'd better chase that! The Mean Lady is growling at me again. I think she needs me to chase her. OH BOY! CHASEME CHASEME CHASEME CHASEME !!!"
Being chased around the garden by a crazed teenager interrupts important napping obligations.
We find him hilarious, although I wish he hadn't developed the habit of biting my toes.
Linguine is disgusted by all of this.