The stray cat we've been wooing was lounging in the front yard yesterday morning, watching us eat breakfast and nibbling some grass. Or so I thought. I turned to attend to the baby and glanced back to see the mighty hunter carrying his own furry breakfast to nibble under the porch. (Thank goodness for that; I'm happy to see him hunting, but that doesn't mean I want to watch him eat.) First Son caught a glimpse and nonchalantly returned to his egg sandwich. He was impressed enough, however, to announce to our priest who came unexpectedly to dinner last night that the cat caught a mouse right in the middle of our front yard.
We're hoping he (or she) sticks around.
