Gus is back on the couch where he belongs. Although Mo Daddy spent Monday night roaming the house, calling for his son, Mo freaked out a little bit when this alien-smelling cat tried to cuddle up with him this morning.
Gus seems a little worse for wear. I know he was treated well at the vet's but he still had to have one paw shaved for the IV and had medicine in his ears, so Gussy Bones looks kind of shabby. But he's purring. Oh, is he purring.
Meanwhile, the weather has turned seasonably cold. This morning, I woke up at 3:30 with three furry furnaces pressed up against my having-a-major-hot-flash body. Dylan, Katy, and Taylor had glued themselves to me and weren't going away unless it was for me to 1) give them food or 2) turn up the heat from it's customary nighttime setting of 62F.
Dylan is now back in my lap as I type this, his head pressed hard against the crook of my elbow. Gus is upstairs with his dad.
There's frost on the window. However briefly, all is right with the world.
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