Evil cat's favourite place to sleep on me is across my throat, even when I am sitting at a desk. Today she is too creaky to get there and had to make do with my lap, and she was clear she found it very inadequate.
I worry about her, watching her stiffly climb stairs, limp across the room, struggle onto a chair. On the other hand she is still enjoying life. As bear didn't get to school his pack lunch is on the sofa and evil cat is happily stealing all the ham out of the sandwiches. I suspect she is also looking forward to being loudly sick and then watching me scrabble to clean it up with smug satisfaction.
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