Morris was not one to take a challenge lightly. It was to be met with precision, conviction and pride. It was his moment to shine in the Edwards household; it was a chance to prove to the family his worth, his purpose, his superiority over the Dog.
He had been perched on the chair for around seven minutes. This position above ground had proved a great place for hunting, not to mention allowing him to see what was being prepared on the counter for the family meals. His favourite so far had been the lemon chicken he swiped Thursday evening.
Kneading slightly with his black sleek paws, Morris twitched his nose upwards at the dangling feathers of the wind chime. They were so close now, the cause of great irritation was in his sights. He followed them swaying in the slight wind with two wide eyes. Left, right, left, right, come, here, you, little, feathery, feather, argh!
Morris, in one sleek movement, propelled himself from the chair. Spreading his paws wide so that he resembled something of flying squirrel, the ball of black fluff flung himself passionately at the feathers.
Shame that there was a glass window in the way.
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