He looks bored a lot, but he’s the most playful of all three cats. And he sure is a killer, even if he doesn’t look it. In fact the boys (I’m never sure which one) have caught two mice in the time they’ve lived here; in one case I heard a growl from Endymion and having never heard that kind of mean sound out of him before, went to find out what was up. As it turned out, he had a mouse in his mouth that his brother wanted to know about. (The other time we came home from a short trip and there was a dead one, placed with respect, about a foot away from my chair.)
But funnier still is when Endymion decides to play with a bug. He watches, he growls, he follows every squiggle or drunken flying jag. Once he grounds the flying thing, or corners the crawling thing, he plays a game of hide and seek, putting his massive paw down on it, then picking it up to check on it and let the bug run away. The problem is the massiveness of the massive paw: unfortunately these games don’t last very long, because even the most hearty, exoskeleton’d types tend to die after two “hide the critter” attempts. The odd thing is that Endymion himself always look disappointed, as if he rung the bell of his best friend only to be told by the kid’s mom that Jr. unfortunately has chicken pox and can’t come out and play.