a cat story from Gladys Taber

Picture this, if you will -

"Our black Manx, for instance... was a big solid cat with sea-green eyes set in a blocky head... He was composed in manner...As for intelligence, I have told the tale often of the day we watched him from the kitchen window as he stepped quietly along the border carrying a weed stalk. 

Then he stopped and poked the stalk upright in the soft earth, tiptoed back, and sat motionless. In a few minutes the weed stalk moved, and then he pounced and jumped back with a mole in his mouth. Obviously, as the mole got near the surface the weed trembled, and he was an easy target. Had I been alone in the house, no one would have believed this, but there were three spectators to testify."

                                      - Gladys Taber,  Country Chronicle