It's a good thing he's not hungry or it woud be mass murder

Aw, criminy--it's Baby Bird Season. 

What that means around here is lots of birdie squawking at the kitties....and a kitty who is sick of hearing it.  Poor guy, he can't go anywhere without the blackbirds reporting in loud voice where he is, where he is heading, and what he might be thinking.  IF he wanders out of cover, he lays low, keeping every part of his orange stripey self out of the path of diving blackbirds.

Of course, it isn't like he isn't looking for it.  Homeboy was across the street yesterday morning, eyeing the crabapple tree that is home to some baby birds, apparently.  Well, that didn't last too long before he shot across the street, back home and safe under the cars in the driveway....closely followed by an angry mother bird.

And when that is boring, he finds other ways to entertain himself--like finding a vole in the neighbor's front yard. 

I love Joe's announcement the other night: "Hobbes has either grown a mustache or he's got a mouse," he yells to me through the house.  Apparently, Joe was calling him in when he ran across the front porch with his new-found friend in his mouth.  To which I yell back:  "Hey! Kids! Don't kiss the cat on the mouth--he's got a mouse!"  And then I wonder, do other people say this sorta stuff?  It's just so "normal" to us.

I gave him a few minutes of glory with his wee friend before going out to save him--the vole, I mean, not the cat.   Hobbes was out there, dodging this way and that, then picking that poor thing up with his mouth and dropping him--only to chase him some more. Poor thing.  Hobbes finally laid down, exhausted--and that's when I snagged him to bring him in.  The vole was last seen heading south on the sidewalk at approximately 35 mph. 

While Hobbes loves this time of year, I can pass, thank you, very much.  There's just way too much excitement for me.