While pondering what to post for the evening, I pick up some faint noise downstairs.
Okay, not faint, more like hard to miss. The sound of the pitter patter of eight paws belonging to 60 pound puppies thunders across the floor directly below me.
And the shrill instruction of the puppy handler.
"Ouch! Don't bite me. Go get the ball." Followed by the thud-dub of a tennis ball ricocheting across the room. "Feral. Get out of the way. They're going to trample you!"
Working on the skill of fetching, obviously. "Hey, Mom. You've got to see this. Feral is playing fetch with the girls."
If you've been following our zoo saga you'll know that Feral is the six pound kitten.
This bit of news only confirms what we've begun to suspect. Feral believes he is a puppy. This explains much.
But then the cat within shows itself. When I enter the room to look, he scampers away and runs back upstairs and then sits on the sofa and stares at the wall.
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