So. I'm loafing (again) in my chair. In front of the TV. My iPod in hand.
Been tweeting. Reading blogs. Replying to blogs. Trying to think of something remarkable to write.
I could whine about the trials and tribulations of restaurant operation. But most of the tribulations are operator error.
I could complain about never-ending housework. But that is old news.
I think I'll write about the cat on my lap. Feel free to roll your eyes and move on. I understand.
The cat on my lap is the newest of my three. When we moved into Mom's a year ago I had two.
This one was hanging around the back door, living under the steps and in the old cistern. Yes there is one of those here.
Anyway. After a short time I was able to coax her inside for short visits. When winter rolled in she was more than happy to become a house cat. And she was named. Sister Wee-un. I just call her Wee, six pounds of black fur and attitude.
She has made it clear to cat #1 that she intends to be TopCat. ASAP. Cat #1 is not yet ready to retire. Makes for interesting interactions. Cat #2 is enamored of her. He is wrapped, totally around her...paw.
Every time I sit today, she has found my lap. Quietly creeping in. Then practicing acupuncture on the tops of my legs. Until she has made them comfortable for herself.
And, I'm comforted my her warmth. Her trust. Cat people know, there is nothing quite like the company of a cat when you're tired, lonely, sad. They don't gaze at you the way a dog does, they just...be.
Once in a while, she'll reach out a snaky paw and tap my face, blink and mew. Then curl up tightly and purr her contentment with her little world.
And that little world? Includes me.