I wake up most mornings to this silly thing crying to be let out to the room at the top of the stairs. It’s where her own personal spot of sunshine hits and she lays there basking until every scrap of it is gone. On overcast days–when there is no sunlight whatsoever, Jiff will act mad at me for hours. Like I’m in charge of the sun, and just not letting her have it, or something.
Maybe I need to get her a heat lamp and totally be the Goddess of all warmth and light.
Just walking around the house, tidying a bit, and scoping out where all the kittys like to hang out. Jiffy likes a nice, soft place without too many wrinkles. Fleece is her favorite, but she’s adapting for the moment and choosing and afghan because the floor heater is nearby. She just wants to be warm and comfy.
Peach will take anything that the other cats have made look good. If they’ve EVER slept on it, she’s sure to be there next. Silly thing. She’s growing up so big and pretty.
And then, of course, there’s the guy. Good, old Beany. We flipped his bed over and he likes it ten times better than before–as long as it’s right at my feet. I’m certain it’s because he becomes totally invisible this way. So, invisible, in fact, that I’ve tripped over him twice. If it wasn’t for that little white paw…you wouldn’t even know he was there.