Because, you know, I’m infected by parasites. You all get to suffer.
We had a rare interlude of sunshine, which my kitteh enjoyed immensely. She’s elderly, and on these days, I tend to go a bit overboard on the pictures, knowing each and every slight variation in her posture will bring back warm memories one day. Of course, when she goes, there’ll be another kitteh to take gigabyte upon gigabyte worth of photos of. It’s a good thing memory is so small and cheap now. Otherwise, I’d have to rent an extra room to store the cat photos in.
For a while, she decided my Kindle sleeve was the greatest place to sunbathe ever. You can see a tiny bit of it poking out from beneath her chin. She’s looking remarkably good for an ancient old fart – aside from a little balding on her back, she doesn’t look her age. The only sign she gives is in sleeping a little more extensively than she used to, and being slightly stiff when first getting up. People who meet her for the first time don’t realize she’s nearly twenty. Especially not when she energetically tries to rip bits off them.
Seattle being Seattle, we lost the sun the next day. She decided to use me for replacement heat. I know this was only because I had a Coke in the freezer, because all the other cold, rainy days lately, she’s wanted nothing to do with me. But since I had something in the freezer that would explode if not removed in a timely manner, she suddenly decided she loved me and wanted to be with me. Cats are evil. This is why I love them. Dogs are nice, but I’ve never liked unquestioning worship. I like selfish gits who are only using me for their own gain.
I also like that little bit of end-of-day light, filtered through clouds, that gives the burgundy curtains such a weird bluish cast, with her green eye in the foreground. That expression on her fuzzy little face is the “Stop wiggling around trying to take pictures and be the perfectly still kitteh warmer I desire, or I will bite your face off” look. I think it’s adorable. But this is why I will never ever own a tiger, people. It’s nice to own a felid that can’t follow through on its threats. And who, occasionally, cuddles up purring loudly enough to be heard in another room and gives me the “I love you conditionally, human who serves me” look.
Even if it is just the toxoplasmosis making me feel all warm and necessary, I still love having a companion who holds me to high standards.