It might seem like I had a ringside seat to these crazy, morning antics, but I didn't. I was the crazy antic, "Licorice Kitty, get down here right now. Here, kitty kitty. Come on. LEAVE THAT CHIPMUNK ALONE!
I was the bathrobe-clad lady shaking the tree branches to distract the cat whose eyes were locked in on a cute little, fast little, daring little chipmunk running from skinny branch to skinny branch. It had been only minutes earlier that I had seen that 'munk flipping its tail as it climbed up and down the post on my front porch.
Oh no, I had thought. The cat's outside. I hurried to the glass door in time to see the little guy (not the cat) scamper across the porch. And back. Did he have a death wish or was he in hopes of a chase? I have no idea, but no sooner had I opened the door than the chipmunk scurried under the porch; and, from out of nowhere, came Licorice in hot pursuit. If the chipmunk had wanted a chase, he got it.
I held my breath, stamped my feet, and yelled at the boards beneath my feet (hard to do while holding my breath). I suddenly heard a crashing sound and saw shaking ferns. Then the dazzling duo shot into the open. I jumped. Chippy tore up the tree, and so did Licorice. The prey was so quick that I saw it for only a few second before it disappeared into the branches. I watched Licorice for a longer time as she too jump from branch to branch, finally performing an acrobatic fall-spin-jump move from a thin twig-let onto a more substantial branch. From there, as I said previously, her eyes locked in on her quest.
That's when I started shaking the branches. I even stomped my feet again and called, "Here kitty, kitty" in my best falsetto kitty-calling voice. I was trying anything to distract her and give the chipmunk an opportunity to escape.
Let me tell you, that cat does not suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder. Her eyes stayed riveted on the upper reaches of the tree as she twitched her tail and wiggled her body into wait mode. Finally I did the only thing I could think of. (No, I did not climb the tree.) I ran into the house, grabbed an open can of cat food (her special kitty treat), and ran back outside.
Licorice might have had eyes for the rodent, but she had ears for a spoon in a can. In a matter of moments she decided that a for-sure-treat was better than a prolong wait, dangerous chase, and possible defeat by a fuzzy-tailed critter. Smart cat, that Licorice Kitty. She made a good decision.
I hope the chipmunk is as smart as Licorice, and makes an equally good decision--like not ever playing on the cat's front porch again. In fact, I hope she moves to an entirely different neighborhood, one without a cat.
Be safe little guy.
Feeling like a Superhero,
Jan
I may not have a cape or mask, but a bathrobe and can of cat food will save a chipmunk and who knows what else.
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