Yesterday I'm sitting on the deck, soaking up some Indian summer warmth before the winter starts. From under the deck comes the crash of falling firewood. Damn, I think, that cat is getting clumsier than ever. A few minutes later cat trots up the stairs with a chipmunk in it's jaws. Musta been hiding in the woodpile. As usual, cat heads right into the house, planning to disembowel and eat chipmunk on the living room rug. I move to intercept cat. Cat drops chipmunk on the rug.
Chipmunk has been doing a good job of playing dead. Comes to life and runs for it. It's fast, and leads a merry circus around the house, cat in hot pursuit. Instead of zooming out the open door, chipmunk dashes down the cellar stairs. I turn on the lights and find cat patrolling the washing machine. Chipmunk has more patience than cat, it's still in the basement. Cat is still doing occasional washing machine patrol, but so far without success. That's why it's name is Stupid Beast.
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