The cats are in a delirium of joy. I've been home for two whole days and they love it.
Everybody's happy. And why not? I, their slave, am here to do their furry bidding.
Cats. Cats. More cats.
When I wake up, I'm usually surrounded by Phoebe, Gus, Dylan, Katy, with Taylor bitching somewhere on the side. When I get out of bed, I'm followed by Sophie and led by Gus.
Sitting here at my desk, playing video games, Blue came in and pawed at me until I picked him up. He sat on my chest, all 25+ lbs of him, and started to do a blissful little kneading dance. Then, drooling, he collapsed on me, paws still going back and forth. I put him down. He got back up. I put him down. He got back up again.
Boris stood at the kitchen sink, meowing to be picked up and for me to turn the faucet on. When he didn't quit meowing and head-butting me, I got the brush and began grooming him.
Even Sophie is coming around. I just heard her in the living room, on the loving seat, meowing so I would come pet her.
I think we're all in for a rude shock come Monday morning.
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