Cluttery

Moby bunched up on D's chair. Not minding the rain this week. He woke enough to partially open one eye at me, then tucked his head firmly behind his paws.



And not just rain. Snow in the higher elevations since the early hours of Monday, making the skiers hopeful for Thanksgiving Day openings.


Valley snow visible on roofs, and cars this morning. Bright sun will melt it all before long. Lots of birds on the balcony, intermittently.
Addendum: And Moby caught one, probably his first ever, at eight years old! Very proud of himself, bringing it in to show us, or play with it. D spotted him coming through the door, and I picked him up to put him, and his catch, back outside. Bird escaped momentarily, recaught, both shoved outside. Bird escaped very quickly, no sounds of distress at all, and cat brought back in. I did go out to check, hoping not to have to do another mercy killing, but it was gone. No blood, no feathers, so it may not have been too badly hurt, even. I hope. Moby VERY proud of himself. We told him "Very good. Now, never do it again." And we won't let him out when there are lots of birds out there again.


New systems in at work, and as with all complex systems, a lot of little snags. Not all to do with the new system, as chaos seems to spawn more chaos.

D up so much of last night, he's taken the day off, and will make it up on his normal day off. Good that he has a schedule that easily allows for such flexibility. We both, therefore, slept well this morning, as the snow/rain fell. After lunch, we will beat back the entropy. Kipple, says D, which is apparently what Phillip K. Dick called the cluttery accumulations of life.