On Tuesday, I went out to check for mail and, seeing the mailman across the street, decided my front steps needed to be swept free of debris from the last deluge. Looking at the pattern of bits, the rain came down so fast, the gutters were, more or less, useless. I have two very tall evergreens on the north side of the house and there were small pine cones and needles everywhere, not to mention old maple seeds and small twigs and leaves. All that work to repaint the front steps and I have all this stuff on them. Plus, I needed to see if the wasp nest was gone.
I propped the door open and started sweeping. It took a bit but Mija decided she needed to see what was on the other side of this door.
She went all the way down to the bottom step, looking at me, looking around, looking at me, looking at the world. All her senses were on high alert.
This is fine, so long as she doesn't go anywhere I can't see her. I started sweeping the south side and the mailman walked by the front. I think the second one of his atoms crossed the plane of her vision, she bolted inside, down the hall and under my bed. I couldn't find her at first, when I brought the mail in but she came out from the bedroom after several calls of her name.
I am loving the change in personality that has brought her to this point.
I do not have a turkey deli sandwich. She just hopped up into my lap and sat down. I love lap cats. There is nothing like having a purring cat in your lap to help you unwind after the stress of killing a dragon or a long day at work. I can be down to oatmeal, hamburger and frozen corn, but have one of them hop into my lap and settle down with a purr and who cares. She follows me around more now too, although that independence of a cat means, sometimes, I have no idea where either of them are in the house. Pilchard has been more willing to be a lap cat, Mija has not. I don't know what changed but I am thrilled.
Beverage: Earl Grey tea