Perhaps it’s because the palette of my home is fairly earthy and muted–browns, grays, greens, mauves, creams–that Little Bepps is so good at hiding with very little effort. After all, the stripes and other markings on a cat evolved so that they could disguise themselves while hunting, right? Every once in a while, Beppsimus feels it necessary to practice these hunting-related skills: after all, just because he is now domesticated doesn’t mean the wild hunter inside him is asleep. Just because he has someone (okay, okay–it’s his mom) feeding him his “kill” from a can (a mere technicality, really), he knows better than to let such a cushy lifestyle weaken his savage impulses or dull his animal instincts. Case in point: can you find Beppsimus Minimus in the following picture? If not, you might as well consider yourself as vulnerable as this morning’s can of Turkey and Cheese Friskies that is now empty and in the recycling.
Look more closely, doomed prey! Never fear, though: apparently, he has lost interest in this one-sided game of fēlēs incognita. Though modest in nature, Beppsimus cannot help his boredom when met with an unworthy opponent. Failure is necessary to develop one’s skills and character. Perhaps a more worthy opponent will rouse him from his ennui.