Mother said, "Don't play with your food."

In Barney's world, dinner is more fun when one plays with the food.

This afternoon while I was by the grain bins for the chickens, our barn cat, Barney, trotted past--head held high, with a rodent dangling from his jaws. I gather that he must have had a different upbringing than I did, for I distinctly remember being admonished to not play with my food at dinner. Not that he played immediately, but in the time that it took for me to pull the camera from my back pocket, Barney had set down his catch--turning what had been his dinner into a toy: a fascinating toy worthy of extended play.

Barney casually looks away, giving the rodent in front a chance to "escape."

After a moment of disorientation, where the rodent simply sat, getting its bearings, the creature chose to play Barney's game--and scurried off. He found a mountainous pile of leaves (mountainous from its perspective, that is) into which he darted, likely presuming he would be safe. The poor little rodent had not counted on Barney, though.

Barney hovers over the pile, listening for the smallest rustle in the leaves.

Soon, Mr. Big Barn Cat, Barney, was hovering above the leaf pile, enjoying his cruel little game. I watched him for a minute or two. While he appeared to be having fun, I did not realize just how much fun he was having until a bit later--when he chose to not show up by the milking stand. To the best of my recollection, Barney has never before missed a milking time. According to our good neighbor, Theresa, he rarely misses a feeding time over there, either.

When I came down from the barn, bucket in hand, Barney was still near his leaf pile. He was no longer beside it, though. No, he appeared well satisfied, sated even. At least the "game" was over for the mole; I'm betting that it did not like playing "Cat and Mouse" with Mr. Barney.