Batted

Granted, the day is mild, despite the bad air, but Moby seems happier, more mobile, since we got the heating pad under him. He slept there all night, luxuriant rather than tightly curled. I feel badly not having it out and on all this time. We feel for him, we all wake a bit stiff and sore. Every age has it's trials and tribulations. Today, he is a warm-butted cat.

The cats are moving around each other easily, sometimes chasing, sometimes Moby watches her as a fascinating entertainment. He hisses at her about once a day, but everyone knows it's pro forma. Although when he jumped to the top of his tree, and she followed to the next level down, he made it clear she was to leave. NOW. Then batted her off the lower perch, too. We have never seen her on the very top, so I suspect this is a repeat lesson for her. Very much a "Get off my lawn!" moment.

But mostly, there is an acceptance, this is the way it is.

The light is gorgeous this time of day, this time of year, through the haze. Over my shoulder, through the mirror, just some golden details. Not the first time I've photographed myself.



This is one of the first Photobooth images of myself,