Five O'Clock Somewhere

Welcome to Five O'Clock Somewhere, where it doesn't matter what time zone you're in; it's five o'clock somewhere. We'll look at rural life, especially as it happens in Rio Arriba County, New Mexico, cats, sailing (particularly Etchells racing yachts), and bits of grammar and Victorian poetry.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

When is a cat not a cat?

You look up at the high bookshelf, and you see a feline form reclining there. No, it’s not a cat on a bookshelf; it’s a leopard in a tree, snoozing by day to rest up for the upcoming night’s hunt. But she’s not completely asleep; a leopard never is. She has an ear cocked and an eye barely cracked open, just in case some desirable prey wanders past.

Whoosh, a white streak zips past, from one end of the house to the other and then back. No, it’s not a cat with a lot of energy; it’s a cheetah out after high-speed prey. He has to maintain his sprint speed in order to keep up with zebras and gazelles.

One morning, I get up and go to the living room on the way to the kitchen. There, it may look like a couple of cats have gotten their claws into a packet of cat treats. But that’s not really what it is; it really is a pride of lions who have disemboweled a zebra and who are feasting on the kill.


Anonymous Brightstar said...

Our leopard lies in wait not for the many lizards populating our screened in patio, but for the darting little gazelles that somehow dart across the Chattahoochee Plain. These captures must then be brought back to the den and admired by the family before being eaten.

Fri Sep 09, 04:06:00 AM MDT  
Blogger Pat said...

...and the 25-pound bag of Science Diet Hairball Control for Senior Cats or whatever was really the carcass of an unfortunate elephant.

Fri Sep 09, 01:09:00 PM MDT  

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