I was sitting at my desk, writing, when the well-behaved, 5-year-old cat, Barley, wandered in to see what I was up to. She’s like that. She thinks she’s my mother, checking on me. She usually sits next to me and reaches up and pokes my face with a paw. I don’t know why. But that’s as ‘naughty’ as she gets now days.
She’s my best ‘friend’ in the whole world. I just love her and her (very) odd ways. She can be grouchy, yes. She has nipped a few times when younger, yes. But she is the most loyal, quirky and (usually) well-behaved cat I’ve ever known.
We also have a kitten, Yaya. Well, he’s a year old, but he acts like a 4-month-old, running and jumping on us in bed at 2 o’clock in the bloody morning. He’s enormous, and fluffy, and has the most amazing blue eyes. He’s rarely well-behaved. Cute and extremely loving, but rarely well-behaved. He tends to
walk fly into my study, jump on the keyboard, bounce onto the window sill from my desk, play catch with the pully from the blinds and cause mayhem on a regular basis. Today, however, he’s asleep on our bed. Peace.
So there I was. Writing. And this happened.
Still got it, eh, Barley? 🙂
(If you have the sound on, I’m not sniffing, I’m laughing.)