Both cats are on the porch, crouching on the water-logged boards, watching a loud, obnoxious and radiantly red robin chirp his heart out and hop up and down the banister in hopes to get some food from the feeder.

He must be trying to ward them off with his strikingly loud chirp- he stares right at them while hopping up and down, beak opening and closing, sounding like a squeaky toy underneath a foot.

I can see the muscles tighten in the cats' bodies as they wait, impatiently, to make their move. Tails swishing about. But the robin knows all too well that this is his game, and they're only pawns.

Now Leo has decided to make his move- he found that charging the robin didn't work, as the robin relocated to the small, sloping rooftop from where the birdfeeder hangs but did not cease and desist his horrible chirping. In a last ditch effort, Leo, pretending to lose interest, ran back inside to the other side of the room, under the dining room table, crouched down, and started chattering (and, if you've never seen or heard a cat chatter... it's very creepy).... then ran across the room, low- belly down to the ground like a stealthy black and white soldier and lunged again, unsuccessfully at the robin.

The robin has called in some reinforcements now... two are outside, chirping and bouncing around the porch and the cats are feigning non-interest. Itty Bitty, never the huntress (besides a few buzzing, dying flies here and there) has flopped over on her side- a clear indication that she is done with this game... and Leopold, in his defeat, has resorted to lying, hunched in the corner next to the recycling bin, yellow eyes squinted mostly shut and peering around.

Life.