A cat on your lap, or one sprawled across the drawing board, or tiptoeing across the palette with a shake of the paw, these are the daily pleasures.
Head bumps, soft purrs, nuzzles, kneads...
The Musings and Melancholies of an Artist and her cat herd.
Day Thirty Two
The Cat That Walked by Himself
"He will kill mice, and he will be kind to babies when he is in the house, just as long as they do not pull his tail too hard. But when he has done that, and between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone." Rudyard Kipling