Pets Have No Boundries

Right now, at this moment, the cat’s head is brushing against my arm. I look down to find out what she’s doing. Yep. She’s, ahem, cleaning her butt. Not just the fur around her butt, but her actual kitty sphincter, banana-slice, whatever. I yell at her, “Kitty! Ew!” and she looks up at me, tongue sticking out, like, “What? It’s not going to clean itself, you know.” I push her away from me, because she should really do that where she’s NOT TOUCHING ME. She shook her head, licked her cat lips, and moved back to my side, where she started to dig right back in. I physically picked her up and placed her on the floor, where I can’t hear that slurping sound.

You’re welcome.

Foreshadowing

Darkness was falling by the time I finally finished writing. My brain had been limping along like I was on some sort of sedative – only without the lovely floaty feeling. I couldn’t stare at anything for too long without my eyes crossing, making it especially hard to stare at a computer screen, and I’m no good at typing without looking. It had been a very long day.