Missy came mooching around the base of the bed as I lay on it trying to type leaning on one shoulder, which is kind of hard as your arms gets really stiff and sore.
Meow. Meow. Meow.
I got a book, Edmund White when he was young and trying to be famous doing shit with famous people, which I read as I walked home from work. It's not as hard as it sounds and it makes the walk home seem so much shorter.
Which I should be reading. I haven't been reading much lately.
Meow. Meow. Meow.
Then Missy jumped up on my bed and it's been hot and humid and sweaty and she cuddled up to me, fur side against my bare skin and I felt fur-slimed. You know, stuck to me, instantly. Ew!
Purr. Purr. Purr.
She looked furious as I slid her off the bed again, on to the floorboards. Cats have a fury all of their own. Nobody does a cross and angry face quite as well as a cat does. She glared at me from the floor. She held it for quite a time, I have to give her credit for how long she could hold "pissed off."
Silence. Death stare.
Then my arm was too sore and my mind foggy and too tired to read, so I turned the light off and pulled the sheet over me and all I felt was a "purdum" and then pad, pad, pad, pad. Then I felt a very still kind of rocking, just momentarily. Something warm and solid lay gently against me.
Cats are smart, she was quiet. But, they are really self-focused and she could help but...
Purr. Purr. Purr.
I slid my hand across the doona stealthily and pulled her pointy ear as if to say I'm on to you, I know you are there and you haven't got away with anything and she jerked her head away, pulling her ear from between my fingers, with a low rumble growl and a pad from her paw, claws retracted.
I knew I was living dangerously.
Silence.
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