Cookie, the tortoise shell cat who used to live next door is back. Last time he was here, we became great friends. He waits for me under the rose bush (where E.G. used to lurk) and runs out meowing and purring the instant I step out onto the stoop.

I sit under the olive tree on the brick wall and pet him for a bit. He rolls around in the dirt, onto his back, then rubs up against me in total enjoyment. Not for this cat the I-don't-see-you, don't-touch-me act. He's all for ear scritches and face rubs and hugs and any other kind of pets he can get.

His people have been gone for about a year and just returned. They lead a peripatetic life, taking their cat, their dogs, and their parrot with them on the road. Their involvement in the film/entertainment/advertising media takes them all over the country. Other people have been in the house in the meantime. I think what they do is share properties, depending on the filming location(s).

I've missed Cookie, and he obviously has missed me, too. The minute he saw me this morning he ran over to me, tail straight up in the air, talking to me the whole time. His people are not terribly pleased that he seems to think I'm one of his people, too, but you can't tell a cat whom to like and whom to scorn. They make up their own minds.

In other news, there is no news. The usual Saturday morning chores and shopping, Trader Joe's, visiting hubby at the VA after lunch. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's a beautiful day, perfect weather, and I am glad to be alive, enjoying it.