He crouches low, creeping toward his prey. He bounds forward, leaping before it gets away. He races through the tall grasses, over a log, then hurdles the final obstacle. The female wildebeest jumps away.

He misses.
Yet again.
Next time.

Sparky thinks I’m his prey.

I have to dance away as he leaps over the sofa toward me. I heard him coming. Good thing, or he’d be dragging me down like a lion drags down a gazelle or a wildebeest.

I have to watch out for him. He hides behind the furniture and under the bed, streaking out to attack my calves as I pass. Sometimes, he manages to leap higher than my waist.

It’s a good thing he has learned to pull in his claws. Jack might be accused of abusing me with all the scratches and bites I’ve had on me.

Sparky is lucky he is a beautiful cat.

My scratches are healing.

I wonder if he descended from a lion, a tiger, or a cougar. He has beautiful stripes along his back legs like a tiger. He’s fierce like a lion. He lies in wait to attack along the back of my sofa like a cougar.

I wonder if he dreams of being a big cat?

Perhaps he does, as he lies across my keyboard.