Hooman decided that we could go on meanders more often. This was great news, as there were far more wildebeest, rabbits, moths, and crocodiles out there for us to munch on. The garden is particularly free of some of the more meaty treats that wander the landscape.
The Wally, as always, was there to moan endlessly about how slow we are, but he mistakes speed with meticulousness. To forage for wildebeest, and crocodile, it takes a keen nose, and sharp eyes. We have to sniff every tree, every bush, and blade of grass in order to track down these treats.
The Batman was never a great hunter. He tended to meow a lot, really loudly, and then trot up to whatever defenceless creature he was trying to eat. This gave them plenty of time to go online, and book a plane or rail ticket out of the danger area. This meant I had to share a lot of the time. You’d think with his massive eyebrow whiskers he would be a walking, meowing, treat detection machine. He wasn’t.
I, however, was a snuffling, tracking, machine of death. Well, I would be if the things I were hunting didn’t spot me a mile away, and run off whenever I got close. I was on the trail of a bunny-thing, and snuffled my way up a small ridge after it, with Batman following me, utterly clueless. After several minutes of snuffling, meowing, and chirping, the bunny made a run for it, and I chased. I think this bunny may have had modifications. Maybe an aftermarket exhaust, or a turbocharger, as it was FAST! It also ran me in rings, and disappeared over the other side down a hole. There is no way I am going in the hole, not without some sort of miner’s hat, with a torch on it.
We ended up down by the river again, where we chased dragonflies, frogs, and cowered from the Wally as he galloped along the riverside trail. Although his hunting skills were akin to a lump of plasticine, he did disturb a lot of insects, lizards, and other treats which we would chase around, and attempt to put in our tummies. Most of the time we were foiled by things such as distance, trees, holes in the ground, or some such. This was not a level playing field.
After so much running around, climbing trees, climbing down trees, charging headlong into shrubberies, and trying to pat things to death before they ran off, we had to have a sit down. This was done in sync as per the Cat Union bylaws. We would normally stare at the hooman, and meow a lot, in order for him to bring us beer, ham, and other treats, but I think his training in our language required more work.
One of the best places to hunt was in the big field with the grass as tall as trees. We would dart into the grass, and hooman could only keep track of us by the tops of the grass quivering as we ran about. We caught crocodiles, hippopotamus, Hyaena, and armadillos, although Hooman never believed us as the only thing he ever saw us emerge with was a moth.
Onward we meandered, and I, being the unselfish hero that I am, decided to take the tail end Charlie position. It wasn’t because I was tired, and walking really slowly, honest. We went past the pond, past the field, down by the weir, (which we were still wary of as it was still roaring for some reason. Maybe it was permanently grumpy?), and then circled back to go home.
Beside the field, we both spotted some sheep in the distance, and stared at them. We knew they were made of meat, but they also had some guard dogs with them. We attempted to formulate some sort of plan involving The Wally to get a sheep for meaty treats, but he was too busy running away from hooman as he tried to put the leash on him.
Eventually, it was hooman that started to tire, and the 3 of us had to slow down so he could keep up. Humans… Pfft. they would never survive in the wild.