Got home from grocery shopping yesterday, to find two cats sharing the sofa. Earlier, she'd been sitting next to me, and Moby sat nearby on the rug, that upright sit, stared at me, looked at her, looked at me, and sighed. "Look, she's on MY sheepie, make her leave."
This morning, Moby hopped to the top of his tree, and Eleanor decided to follow him right up there. He batted her down, but she kept going back, even nipping at his tail. We're throwing her ping-pong balls, to drain off some of the energy. Old guy is not up to a one-on-one, full bore wrestle with Sparky. Yeah, she's Eleanor when languorously being petted, Sparky when she's bopping about. Tire her out some first, and then they can both enjoy a chaseabout.
Still, Moby is in better shape, fur all grown back, eating more. He'd started to decline a bit, subtle stuff, clear to us. He still sleeps more, plays less, grumps a bit. The glucosamine/chondroitin (lick off gel) really does seem to have reduced the amount of grunting and groaning. Best to look at actual results, and ignore the complaints that things just aren't the same.
Uh, oh, she's coming back around...
6 comments:
I'm not surprised that they both want a place on those lovely sheepskins!
One of our rare indulgences, that the cats consider appropriate tribute. I have an overwhelming weakness for soft things. On cold nights, oh, so worth it. And really, not that expensive.
I love seeing people's rooms and their stuff--it's a neat kind of self-portrait. Also I get wondering about stuff like, what books are on the shelves, and what's in that red Netflix envelope?
Le Carre, in that one, and dvds, graphic novels. I think that Nextflix is a Foyle's War that D got. That was part of why I posted that one, rather than the cropped in version. Context is everything.
P.S. Loved Foyle's War! also "Spy Who Came in from the Cold"--the Richard Burton one.
(O)
Post a Comment