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Sitting Cat
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If there are typos in this entry I have an excuse for a change -- it's because I'm working around a cat. Sabrina has insisted on sitting in my lap a lot the past few weeks. During the summer, when the weather's hot, she hardly approaches, but as soon as the cold sets in she's on me constantly. I think you could estimate the outside temperature by timing how long she's in my lap during the day.

Why I allow myself to be inconvenienced by a heat seeking feline I don't know, but I cross my legs to give her a seat, angle my chair slightly to the side so she doesn't bump her head on the keyboard by accident (even though that gives me a sore shoulder). I even have to pick her up. She sits on the floor and stares wistfully at me until I do.

Well, she is fifteen. Not as nimble as she once was. She goes back to another era in my life, way back to the end of my first marriage. A neighbor found kittens in her garage and held a garage sale. Kittens were on special. Free.

Sabrina was one of those innumerable sale items my ex thought she couldn't live without.

I'd like to reminisce more but I need to get a paper towel and wipe the cat drool off my space bar.

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