zeborah

So Boots hid under the bed while I was getting ready for bed last night.

The downside of sleeping in the spare room is that the bed is just a single, but she did manage to find sufficient space to join me on it. So passed the night.

In the morning, I like to exercise my left knee in a possibly vain attempt to get the circulation going before moving my encasted foot to the floor, because by then it's been a while since the last anti-inflammatories and there will be mild pins and needles. Boots interprets this movement as "getting up now" and when I don't follow through immediately starts with the head-butts to encourage me. Of course when I give in and do get up, picking up my crutches causes her to flee the house.

Ten hours go by, during which I do a full day's work from my couch, launder the stinky cat blanket, pick a courgette, and nuke a pie for lunch. Finally Boots comes home demanding food, I reach for my crutches to prepare it for her, and she flees again.

Cats.