Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
I suspected the orange tabby knew more than he was letting on, but who was he protecting? Who? Who? Was he not answering or could I not hear above his raucous purrs? I needed to take my investigation elsewhere if I was going to solve the mystery of the fallen tree.
You cannot run from the love of Trixie, least not while she’s sleeping on your legs.
We’ve had cats for many years so I’ve long since gotten used to my spot being stolen if I get up for any reason. Even so, come on!
(sound of lips smacking)
The kitchen of our house in Portland had a little section where the windows extended out of the house, providing an expansive view up and down squirrel alley. Fortunately it was down near the end of the counter, away from the food prep section, as our smallest wildlife watchers found it irresistible no matter what rules existed about walking on the counters.
Sam has taken to this south-facing window where he can lie with the sun warming his belly, all with a view of the quail and doves and woodpeckers in the backyard. As happens in life though, sometimes a neighbor moves in and blocks your view, or climbs into bed with you for a snuggle. C’est la vie.
Boolie 