Homesteader Update:
In case some of you were worried, the white dish rag is still running
the house. I do think that she's still not too fond of my leaving most
days. She always greets me at the backfront door when I get home in the
evening and demands that I pet her. And pet her. And pet her. And . . .
You get the idea. At least she doesn't bark. Her catonese is fine--no
interpretation is needed. Maybe I'll have to get her a pet human to stay home with her weekdays.
She's still a faithful alarm clock as well, but she's graduated to
sleeping at the foot of the bed most of the night. Easier I suppose to
get in my face and fuss in the morning rather than having to strain
herself and jump from the floor up on the bed before beginning her good
morning serenade. She is getting just a tad closer to fulfilling the
proverbial role of the "fat cat." But not much. Way too dedicated to the
elephant races up the stairs for that to be a problem yet. She does
have a sweet tooth though. Pound cake is her favorite. On those rare
occasions when I bring some home, she knows. I think she would tackle me
if I didn't share. Oh the joy of being "loved" by a yellow-blue
two-eyed monster. Oh, she has also decided that when I pray at night
that a little background purring noise is necessary. I hate to imagine
what she's praying for.
Now that it's light in the morning when I
leave, she spends the time teasing the birds at the bird feeder. I'm
guessing that goes on all morning. Once she's been fed, she doesn't
waste her time saying "go away." I wish I could put some kind of blue
chalk on her feet just to see where she spends her daytime hours. I'm
guessing all the places she knows she's not supposed to be when I'm
home. It's a cat thing. When the chubby old bald guy's away, the
Homesteader will play. Anyway you don't need to fret about the little
creature. Her motto will always be "Long live the Queen!"
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