Our cameraman has spent months, nay, years, stalking the elusive Domestic Jungle Ocelot. His patience has finally been rewarded.
He is usually a nocturnal creature. At night, when the denizens of the day have retired, he emerges from the depths of the garage and stalks his prey. Namely, veterinarians.
Oblivious to her imminent doom, the veterinarian slumbers. She wakes up to the silent kneading on her chest as the ocelot sucks out her her life’s breath and bites her on the forehead. And all she sees in the last seconds of her life are two shiny yellow eyes.
What could lure this retiring creature from his dark daytime sarcophagus?
Birthday balloons needing popping.
A short distance away on the savannah, the archenemy of the domestic ocelot- the Goldenbeast- slumbers.
The ocelot is safe, for now.
Or is he?
The Goldenbeast’s sense of smell is keen.
The ocelot senses the presence of a predator. Does he stand his ground, or flee?
With the sixth sense that has ensured his survival for so many years, the ocelot has divined what we have not.
The Goldenbeast is tethered, unable to leave the confines of the lowlands.
What has brought the Goldenbeast to this lowly fate?
STEALING THE KILL OF THE HEAD BEAST WHILE THE OTHER BEASTIES WERE OPENING BIRTHDAY PRESENTS! THIS IS A BAD, BAD GOLDENBEAST!!!!
(This was a seriously tragic way to learn he could reach the plateau of the tabletop.)
The ocelot cannot help but laugh at the folly of the naive young beast.
He remains, as always, king of the jungle.