We were gone for two hours last evening, having dinner with Fred’s parents and sister and her husband. I hoped I’d come home and find Maggie in the midst of birthing 73 babies, but NOT A ONE.
“MAGGIE,” I said. “GIVE ME THOSE BABIES!”
“Nyah,” she said, and then head-butted my hand and demanded I scratch her behind the ears.
Rufus is not only coming out from under the couch more and more, but yesterday afternoon we found him on top of the cat tree in the front room, curled up asleep. I’m glad he feels safe enough to do that now.
When we put him in the guest bedroom at night, I only have to sit down and call to him once, and he comes right over to me for petting and kisses.
Sugarbutt snuggles up to the new bed I bought him at Walgreen. Something about the fact that a cat is snuggled up to sleep in a bed shaped like a dog amuses me for some reason. It doesn’t take much, obviously.
2010: No entry.
2009: Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.