Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Yesterday, I said I'd post about a non-cat topic today... oh, well. Maybe tomorrow. At least you aren't getting another soliloquy on all the stuff I learned today about the pet food industry and my struggles to find the best raw and canned foods. There's a maze of conflicting, confusing, and hair-raising information. I'll write about it later, if and when I get some clarity.
Tonight, Harry sprawled across me as I was reading on the sofa and decided my old cashmere sweater reminded him of his mother. He closed his eyes and "nursed" on my sleeve, near my armpit, kneading my arm with his newly trimmed claws and purring deeply. He kept at it for at least 15 minutes as I watched, amazed. From the other room, Possum and Wendy recognized the tiny noises he was making, and came over to us with huge eyes, wondering where Harry's mom was. Eventually Harry looked up at me with glazed eyes and staggered away, collapsing beside me in a contented stupor. I expected to find a hole in my sweater (and didn't care, since I have extra yarn and plenty of experience repairing moth holes). But my only souvenir of this unforgettable experience is a small, soaked spot on my sleeve.
Possum returned, licked Harry's head, looked me in the eye, and walked away. It's nice of him to check in when I have baby-sitting duty. I do the same when it's his turn.
Harry is noticeably bigger than he was two weeks ago, but he still has a baby face and all of his roly-poly kitten charm. His feet still look too big for the rest of him, and his legs and tail are longer. He's going to be a tall cat if not a huge one. In the meantime, I'm enjoying scooping him up with one hand and holding him in my arms. Trying anything like this with Possum these days is akin to cradling a giant fur-covered ham.