The taste of freedom smells really, really bad.

I've become used to the skitter skatter sounds of the little kitten tearing around everywhere in the house with two big dogs in hot pursuit.  It's become the background noise of our lives and a sign of pure bliss for the three critters involved.

This morning was no different...until it was.  Just like when my kids were little, the silence was more alarming than all the racket.  Silence = something not great is afoot!

I got up from the table, looked around for the kitten, woke up my kid, we looked around, discovered that the screen on one of the window was slightly pushed out, and to the front yard we dashed.

And there he was, jumping around right outside said window, looking happy, happy, happy.

Had that little toot been chasing lizards and birds?  No, of course not.  That little guy had clearly found a pile-o-poo and had been actively batting it around.


FYI, the taste of freedom smells really, really bad.

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