A Lack of Strategy from Kitty Senior
This morning I witnessed Calvin, my obstinately affectionate white-and-ginger kitten, attempt to catch a pigeon. It went a little somethin' like this.
Calvin spots pigeon. Calvin begins to run, each padded step making a loud thud that echoes across the street and back, determinedly towards the pigeon. Pigeon pecks at bread on ground. Calvin gains speed. Peck, peck. Thud, thud. Peck, peck. Pigeon turns around, watches Calvin carefully as Calvin approaches. Thud, thud. Peck, peck. Pigeon flies off.
Calvin stands for a moment, a mere foot from where the pigeon had been just a moment ago, peck, pecking away, and looks – in the way that only cats can look –C utterly bereft.
As I watched him, I felt a terrifying moment of realisation upon reviewing his plan of attack. He saw the pigeon, wanted the pigeon, ran for the pigeon, frightened the pigeon away. It's not off the ground he licked it.