Amelia the cat is a good doctor but a poor chiropractor. When she first came into my life, she would sleep glued to me all night. If I rolled over, she would climb up to the new high place. She's started doing that again. For much of the intervening six years, she's been sleeping on my legs instead. These days, she's mostly sleeping on my belly, which tends to knock my back out of kilter. Thus, I'm much happier on the occasions that she sleeps on my chest instead.
She also is grooming all. the. time. This is also much like 2005. I couldn't figure it out then and I can't figure it out now. It's supposed to represent stress. I guess she might be stressed out because I've been absent a lot more while watching out for my dad, or she might be stressed because I'm stressed about him. Or maybe she just thinks she's dirty. Who knows? I keep looking for fleadirt, but can't find any. Sooner or later, I'll get flea medicine (ok, poison) just to be on the safe side.
She also hides in the uh, portable closet. Call it a plastic armoire. She lies on Alice's old comforter, which I wasn't using in 2005 quite yet, but for most of my stay over there. Don't know if Amelia's nostalgic or just cold. Maybe I'll slide the thermostat up another degree.
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