cats

Starlady nails it in one. They're on to me. Blast!

(photo is SFW)

I lay on the bed this afternoon, drowsy with sunshine and tea and salacious novel, and trawled fingers through Edmund's orange fur. As my hand crept over and around, to reach the white fur on his belly, the purring changed from lazy to nearly explosive, as if to say, oh yes, pet me right there...

Jeff and I watched this in mingled horror and amusement. Up to a certain point, it describes how I have been awakened almost every morning for seven years now. (Also explains why my first words every morning are usually some variation on "Dammit, Tenzing.")

Some days you know early on that you've lost your mind and it just isn't coming back. Some days you also know early on that you have beaten on too much code that week, and that it's time to walk away, unplug for a weekend, and not look back until Monday.Today is that day.

How do I know?

Slip out at the end of the day, purse strap over shoulder and CDs in hand, and look east; the hills, visible over Huntsville's skyline, are darkening fast. Look west, toward my commute, and the sun might've hung around for one last metaphorical cup of coffee but is more than likely on its way to say hello to the next time zone over.

He is a strange cat, difficult to predict, sometimes surprisingly intelligent, but often his intelligence is masked by his petulance. Tenzing is six, nearly seven; an age in which humans have begun to move toward full comprehension and conversational ability. I joke about my 'eternal toddlers' but there is truth in that statement, more truth than some people realize.While very much alike in appearance, Edmund and Tenzing are very different in temperament.