Slept better last night, but sleeping meds can do that for a person. The kittehs are wandering around, restlessly, although when Emmylou came to wish me goodmorning before I was even out of bed, she was warm, almost hot, from sitting in the sun.
Interestingly, they seem to be getting along slightly better, which is not at all what I expected. Perhaps because they arrived in this space at the same time there are not the territorial issues. At some point, I will let them explore the hallway. For now, the fact that they will both sleep on the twin mattress seems a positive augury.
No kidding, there is a fella with a yellow hard-hat striding down the street belting a song and as far as I can tell, the refrain is "there goes... communist ..." Not something likely to be heard during an Albert walk in Brewster. Oops, here he come again singing "I'm a racist, you're a racist, and I'll see you in court." The grace here being that he has a half-way decent voice. And now, back to the "communist" refrain.
I'm just dropping info here and there. Cooder has been pacing madly for the last hour. Why? Because Emmylou was sleeping in HER place on the bed. In Brewster, there were plenty of other comfy places for kittens, Emmy preferring the couch in the family room. Here, there are not as many soft places and the bed is small, so Emmy got the good spot. I pulled out the catnip to see if I could get Cooder to chill out. Emmy moved off of the bed and Cooder promptly resumed her spot. We'll have to see what Emmy's next move with be.
|Tabbies, in two styles.|