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.
I could live with that.
