My bathrobe grew its own fur trimming these days. Warm and cosy. Even featuring its own sound effects. It purrs.
My little cat is not so keen on frost, by the looks of it. She always gets up with me early (if I have a day off and theoretically could sleep in, she makes sure I don’t) and her first urge in the morning is wanting out. So the first thing, I do every morning, is opening the door to the terrace, to let her out. I think, she just needs to pee. All summer she never used her inside cat toilet. But usually it takes her minimum two hours, before she peeks back in, asking for breakfast. In fact, she spends most of the day outside. Occasionally bringing back in some prey to brag and play with. Mostly birds (messy). Or little mice (heartbreaking squeeks). Sometimes big, green grasshoppers (lot’s of jumping around, even with just one leg left). But she is born a predator, so this is what she does. I just can’t get over the fact, that she plays with her food so much, before she finishes it off. Sometimes, she even looks offended, if a little mouse gives in too early for her liking. Urging the poor, dead beasty with her paws, to keep on running and hiding a little longer. What she is up to for the rest of the time, I can but guess. No idea, where she is about and what she is up to. Unless I work in my garden. Then she is always around, wanting to play. Participate. Watching. Jumping around.
But now, with winter advertising itself all too early, freezing over everything in the mornings, my cat is not happy at all. Five minutes after I let her out, she is back on my lap, forming said fur trimming on my bathrobe. Digging her cold paws in for warmth, she snuggles up and never leaves my lap until I have to leave for work. Which makes typing my blog a little uncomfortable, as my little cat would rather, I left my arms still for her to have a comfy head rest. We’ll have to find a better arrangement, if this is going to be the winter routine from now on in.