Now it's up to the mancats to take up the trail.
Dante and Dylan team up to discuss their strategy.
"I'll go disaway", says Dante ...
... "an' yoo go dataway! OK?"
Dylan sniffs out the bushes to see if they've been disturbed by alien PURResences (aka squirrels).
"Hmmm! Sumfing smells different around here!"
Mama put breadcrumbs out for the birdies.
"An' it sure duzn't taste bad eider!"
You could stand to lay off the carbs, there, Dylan.
In the meantime, Dante is checking things out rather URNestly.
Dylan touches base with him (and the urn).
"More dan wun squirrel has defunitely been here", says Dylan, after sniffing the porch chair.
Dante confirms the diagnosis.
"OK, ware doo we go next?"
Dante's tail poofs out in anticipation.
Dylan decides to check out the front of the house, under the bay window. "Dis winnow sure didunt keep dose squirrels at bay!", says he.
The scent trail sent Dylan this way -- towards the bench.
"Dis calls for a moar thorow investigashun!"
"I finks dey's been using our bench as a lunch cafeteria", deduces Dylan.
"An' dey doan even bodder to clean off dere crums!"
Meanwhile, Dante has been checking out the far side of the house.
He, too, is attracted to the bench.
Here, the scent is so strong that Dante is sure he has an iron-clad case.
Even though Dylan has already given his opinion, once again Dante is there to confirm it.
"Well, I fink we has done all dat we can, fur now", declares Dante.
"Eggcept for leavin' our own scent on da place", says Dylan and then he does just that! He's on a roll after all.
Exhausted from their extensive investigations, the mancats have returned to home base. Sometimes the job may be TEAdious, but somebody's gotta do it! And my mancats always do the DE SCENT thing.