Objects on floor may be quicker than they appear

I'm afraid I must keep this short — can't afford to take my eyes off the horizon these days. Things have taken an ill-boding turn around here. The Small Man is suddenly, and wildly, in motion.

Of course, it had not escaped my notice that his sphere of grabbance has been increasing. With the addition of a few new moves to his repertoire, including some outrageous spins and lunges, I confess that he's caught even me off guard now and then. There have been a few near misses, including one incident in which I was forced to apply a warning punch directly to the Small Man's puffy face.

I would have thought we might just leave it at that. But alas, alas.

He has now acquired the power of forward motion. Not precisely forward, I suppose, in the straight-line sense, but damn near close enough. He lumbers about on all fours, clumsily and wobbily but with surprising and explosive speed — somewhat like a hermit crab with the trots crossing a bed of hot coals.

The first sign of real trouble came this afternoon. I witnessed the Small Man galumphing noisily after the Rodent, who incidentally seemed not terribly concerned about all this. Then he wheeled and, catching sight of me clear across the room, abruptly lurched forward and of all things, pursued me. Giggling. Clumping violently along — whomp whomp whomp whomp — and giggling. Like a maniac. And really moving. Well, damn. I mean, over the years I've seen a lot of things coming at me, but this was just nuts.

So I got the hell out. Out, out and away. Fortunately, for all his speed and suddenness, he is mightily lacking in the stealth department. So if I keep my senses honed, I should be able to remain a few paws ahead of him. Let us all hope so, anyway.

Because the last thing I need is to get worked into a corner by this emergent marauder. I've seen what happens when he gets ahold of something, and I'll not be slurped, blurped, nor otherwise bespittled in any fashion.