Florence, official mouser-in-training for the Muir Trail Ranch, seems to be totally oblivious to the incessant chirping coming from only one room away where Chip chirps. But you just know that her little pea brain is churning, neurons and synapses processing input signals at scarily high voltage, while at the same time giving an unsuspecting onlooker the totally believable vision of detached coolness. You can even admire her impression of bloodless road kill, as shown above. Clever cat, she.
Only moments earlier I clapped loudly as she was stretching her lithe body from the floor to the table-height safe space where Chip chirped. She’s an interesting cat, the only one I have ever seen who sits on her haunches with her front feet tucked against her chest—just like a rabbit. But she’s no vegetarian, that’s for sure. And she’d like nothing better than a little hors d’oeuvre like Chip.