When I let Baby outside, I leave the sliding door open a bit so he can rush back in if he gets nervous. This afternoon I closed it so I could take these pictures. Yes, I’m so mean, no, Baby wasn’t actually terrified or anything, and yes, I let him back in.

Of course, as soon as I went outside again, he followed me right back out. I sat in a chair, and he walked in circles around the chair. I got up and walked to one side of the cement patio, and he followed. I walked to the other side, and he followed. I went back inside, he followed. He’s glued to my side, apparently.

And apparently, it’s Baby photos week on Candid Crimson.

Baby-kitty giving me the “The great outdoors is over-rated” stare.

Baby out in the yard, in color and black and white. It’s nothing artistic, but I like this picture…the way he’s walking away from the camera.

Baby is usually strictly an indoor cat, but the last few days I’ve been letting him go outside for a few minutes at a time. This is partly because he was sick and I felt like giving him a “treat”, partly because I want him to know which house is his in case he ever escaped, and partly because, well, it amuses me. I’ve had some indoor cats who, when let outside, would bound all over the place and I’d have to keep an eye on them and chase them back inside when their time was up. But Baby only meanders a little around the patio area, keeping close to me. He sniffs a few things, he scrunches up his eyes against the sunlight and wind, then wanders back inside the house on his own. In other words, he’s not a cat who really wants to go outside much in the first place.

My fuzzy hero. If you’ve don’t understand the post title reference, you’ve never seen Underdog. Shame on you.

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Ye olde kitty has been wilting in the heat, so I occasionally wet a rag with water and dampen his fur a little. Sometimes I drape the rag over his back for a few minutes. Yes, he likes it. At first I was just going to post the original pics (below), but then during a burst of boredom I turned Baby into Undercat.

One morning I looked out the sliding glass door and the neighbors cat was sitting on the fence, staring up at the big tree. A black squirrel jumped down from some very high branches in the tree and started to come down the trunk. The cat, understandably, was excited by this. The squirrel, also understandably, became disconcerted at the sight of the cat, halted, and ran back up the trunk. But only so far. Then it turned around and started a stare-off with the feline who dared to be in his way.

I was only able to shoot through the glass door/screen, for fear the sound of the door opening would scare them both away, so the pics are kinda fuzzy. It was hilarious to watch, trust me.

Baby isn’t the smallest cat in the world. He’s not the biggest either, but that isn’t the point.
The point is, I remember when paper grocery bags were bigger. So does Baby.