Precious few hours this week have been spent anywhere other than sat right in front of my computer screens. Most likely, that trend will continue. My desk is a mess of papers and pens and paperclips and tea and coffee stains. I’d say I’m sick of it, but … I’m not.
One daily respite is when The Cuban and Che Fufu put in a little kitty cardio and she chases her little birdie from one end of the flat to the other. She leaps. She slides. She shakes her butt and looks vicious. She attacks. (And, if we’re very lucky, she launches herself towards one piece of furniture or another only to miss it completely.) Lovely moments. And, extremely entertaining that kitty cardio.
Today’s image doesn’t capture Che Fufu in all her playful glory. Rather, it shows the aftermath. Sweetly curled up sleeping soundly with her beloved birdie. How she can go from chewing and clawing the little thing as if it was a real bird she wished to rip the head from to then curling up with it as if it was her security blanket, I’ll never understand. But, then, I do not think ‘cat’. I especially do not think ‘Che Fufu’.
Sleep well, darling beastie. For tomorrow you shall hunt. Same time. Same place. Same precious birdie.