So we have the new kitten, Martin. He is funny and inquisitive about everything. He stands up on his haunches whenever he feels the urge. He skittles sideways anytime he thinks it will benefit his well-being. If I pick him up and lay him on my chest, he wants to climb higher and higher - and I remark to him, "Martin, you cannot enter my head, you know." Where does he think he is heading?
He plays with grass, with leaves, with a crack on the wall that is filled with shadow. He plays with shoe strings attached to ankles. He plays with the great big MacArthur - even jumping on his back. MacArthur doesn't react; perhaps he doesn't feel the little gnat on his back.
This afternoon while I was in the grocery store, I saw an older cowboy, perhaps a grandfather, and a little boy, about three or four. The pair wore jeans, workshirts, and cowboy boots. The grandfather was grey under his hat and had a handlebar mustache. The little boy had buzz-cut blonde hair. The little boy looked around his surroundings and was off! Just like Martin Kitten. The little cowpoke saw a bench and ran to it - climbed up on it, and then hopped off and moved on to anther site. Just like Martin Kitten - and so on, through the grocery store. He was really fun to watch.
After I made my rounds down the grocery aisles, I moved to the cashier, and there was the pair: the grandfather cowboy was cradling the little tyke cowpoke, who was nearly dozing off in his arms.
Not unlike Martin Kitten, who runs and runs and then suddenly stops: time for a tiny cat nap before starting all over again.