Where are we going, and why are we in this handbasket?
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Every day, I reach under the bed to pet Wendy on the wooden box where she likes to hide and sleep. I stroke her, rubbing my scent onto her fur, until she purrs. Every night, I hope she'll warm up to me and let me pet her when she isn't cornered under the bed. I'm not having much luck. But she did let me take a decent photo the other day.