Jack's a pretty easy going little guy, so when I heard him scream from the sunroom yesterday, I knew something was wrong.
I ran from the kitchen, expecting to see him gashed, or with his finger stuck in a too-tight hole. Neither gash nor "stuck-age" answered my question, and when I picked him up and held him, he instantly settled. Hmm, I wondered. I wonder what troubled him?
I turned around, and looking out our door, my question was answered. There prowled a bobcat, sneaking up on his (hopefully) delicious dinner, an unsuspecting rabbit.
Move over, National Geographic.