Baby and Tiny conduct post-battlefield assessment at the scene of pre-dawn squirrel raid
Just before dawn as we sat blogging, a frantic screeching filled the air. We ran outside and followed the line of Tiny's tether to where it disappeared among the potted plants on the terrace. We guessed correctly that it was a squirrel and pulled and pulled the tether, dragging the daughter of the Squirrel Slayer towards us, squirrel in mouth. Grabbing Tiny, we did our usual mother-cat-grasping-the-kitten-by-the-back-of-the-neck maneuver to pop the squirrel out.
After tying a mouse up in her duster and tossing it about like a ball, she looks up, bemused -- where did the mouse go? -- having forgotten about "that hole in the duster." From Beatrix Potter's The Tale of Miss Moppet (first published 1906)
Released from the jaws, the astonished squirrel scurried off, and Tiny sat blinking, à la Beatrix Potter's Miss Moppet, who "forgot about that hole in the duster" when she tried to catch a mouse. Heading back inside, we found Baby wanting to know what all the commotion was about. He joined Tiny outside, where they spent many minutes all eyes and ears, sniffing the air and listening to the squirrel chatter high above in the uppermost branches of the Silver Maple.