I didn't plan to write a blog tonight.
I'm catsitting these days. Harley, a small calico with a purr like a motorcycle, is curled up on a pillow, sleeping. Snuggler, a large tabby, is a bit s-p-e-c-i-a-l, if you know what I mean. All appears to be squared away. First, I need to send a report to my daughter and her husband.
Dear Scott and Adrienne,
Hope all is well in Roanoke. Miss you guys. Cats miss you, too. They're looking forward to joining you in Virginia soon.
Speaking of the cats, Harley is sitting next to the computer as I type. Snuggler is curled up on the sofa back. You'd hardly notice the singed fur if you didn't know where to look.
Not much news from Birmingham. Gray and drizzly, today was a good day for cleaning. I worked in the kitchen for a while. After I finished the pantry, I started on the bookcases. Took a break, treated myself to some hot tea, and savored the aroma of my favorite Archipelago Havana candle. Put out the fire on Snuggler's belly. Then I started dinner.
Now that I think about it, I haven't lit a single candle since the cats have been with me. But this afternoon, that delicious scent tempted me. Wish you could have been here for tea and cookies by candlelight. So peaceful...at least until Snuggler leapt onto the desk
She landed on her feet. You would have been so proud of her prowess. She seemed almost coordinated. You know how sometimes she jumps and misses? Not today. There she stood, straddling the jar candle. I noticed a bright orange-yellow light emanating from her underside. Brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, "fire in the belly." I slowly reached below her and doused the candle flame. Then I saw more light. Bright. Flickering.
Snuggler just stood there with her fur on fire as I tried to reach underneath. Wow, Scott, you were right. She does NOT like her stomach rubbed. I guess she thought I was trying to pet her, bless her heart. Dug her claws into my arm, then jumped onto the floor. Headed for the kilim rug in the living room, with me in hot - sorry - pursuit. One lunge and I pinned her. You would have been proud of my dexterity. No burns on her skin. I must admit, however, that, when she rolls over, the scent of burning cat hair is still with us.
Oh, well, nothing exciting to write about, so I'll close. Harley's now on her favorite pillow and Snuggler is staring into space. She appears to be having a thought. Or maybe she's constipated. Not sure.
Love you...looking forward to a visit.
So, dear readers, let's not tell Patrick and Leslie.
I might never get to babysit my precious granddaughter again.