The Spud that roared

“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight…it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

It’s one of those old truisms…and I found out yesterday that it can be applied to cats, too - even half-grown cats who are more a legend in their own minds than in reality.

Remember the kitten I pictured in the tortilla a couple months ago? We call him “Spud” now and he’s been a constant companion on our outdoor forays. He’s the source of a lot of exasperation as he winds his way around ankles and under feet as we’re trying to leave the porch of our house, though he does make up for his trouble with a constant parade of mice, moles and voles served up for our scrutiny.

Yesterday, as Doc-wife and I were surveying the garden (and gobbling some early season tomatoes), Spud was contentedly pouncing on grasshoppers unlucky enough to come to his attention. Suddenly, he stopped and went flying, arms spread for the pounce, into a patch of tall weeds.

We heard a weird burping noise and then a hiss.

Spud came sauntering out and stood by our feet with a “what the hell was that?” look on his face.

The weeds moved…we investigated…reluctantly. A very large, somewhat puzzled, woodchuck poked his head out and then made a beeline for the mound of dirt behind our chicken coop, Spud in hot pursuit. This woodchuck had to be at least 2-1/2 times as big as Spud, but the kitten wasn’t backing down. It was like those old Foghorn Leghorn cartoons with the tiny chicken hawk…”I’m a chicken hawk and you’re a chicken, so are you going to come along quietly or am I gonna have to get rough?”

Spud’s probably outside now, bragging to anyone that’ll listen about the “ginormous mouse that got away.”