Ahh, the Great Big (Scary) Outdoors....

Bright unadulterated sunshine suffused our woodland home this week. Neither Frances and I, nor Chiripa and Namaste could stay hidden away indoors. We went out walking every day, first to the mailbox with the dog leading and the cat huddling tentatively in Frances's arms. After we retrieved the mail and turned back up the driveway Frances lightly dropped little three-month-old Chiripa to the ground and then ... they were off.

The cat and dog raced furiously up the drive. Namaste, excited to have a tiny companion that could almost keep up with him, sped forward with a smile on his face. Chiripa--butt bouncing up and down--raced the dog more from fear and uncertainty than because she wanted to participate in the thrill of a chase. Namaste circled back when it was clear that he had the lead and the cat hovered near us, unsure and insecure. Where was she anyway?

After we reached the house and returned Chiripa to her safe spot on the porch and Namaste to the house's inner sanctums Frances and I retrieved our snowshoes for a walk through the woods. Finally, abandoned several days in a row, Namaste refused to re-enter the house and insisted that he be included in our snowshoe adventure. He took the lead along our well-tromped path past the goose barn and into the woods.

The first day Namaste followed his nose--and probably his good sense--and led us along the shortest route, a nice circle into the woods to a nearby clearing and then back to the driveway and our house. The next day he began from the same starting point but decided to take a left when the path forked. That day we ventured further into the woods until Namaste indicated that it was time to backtrack. Did the smell of coyotes or other creatures convince him that his decision was the wisest choice?

The following day we snowshoed even further into the woods with Namaste dashing far ahead until--again--he suddenly and unaccountably decided that it was time to reverse direction. Each day when we returned to the house, Chiripa waited patiently for us in the porch or, occasionally, zipped back out the door to join us in the driveway for a brief round of exploration.

Though the great outdoors is a fascinating and marvelous place for a sweet young thing it is also fraught with danger. Frances carries Chiripa outside almost daily now as she invites the kitten to experience, and become familiar with, the abundant sights, sounds, and smells that emanate from the woods. Chiripa isn't buying Frances's on-the-shoulder sales job. Often she heads straight for the underside of one of our cars where she waits and watches in semi-safety.

Each day, though, Chiripa quakes a little less, looks a little farther, and explores a little more. Ahh, the exciting life and daily learnings of a three-month old (according to Hill's Guide for Lifelong Health, in kitten years that's equivalent to a nine year old human). Frances and I find ourselves repeating a common refrain: Oh, she's growing up so fast....