Mr. and Mrs. Duck were out in the reserve next to our house two mornings ago, sitting and sunning themselves as they often do. They seem to like the reserve, probably because it's bordered by friendly humans who throw old bread to them—something the little birds, and not so little seagulls, also appreciate.
I wanted to take a photo of Vera and Drake, as the Ducks are known to their friends, but Jake, who recently discovered he has a barking voice, decided to use it at the Ducks who, um, ducked out. It was all over before I even had time to get the camera, so no photo of the Ducks or of little Jake protecting his patch.
Yesterday morning, as I was just beginning to wake up, I thought I should be careful not to kick Curzon as I moved around in bed. I woke up a bit more and remembered.
This morning I started my Friday routine and got ready for the fridge to be delivered and a man to come and put in a bigger pet door for Jake, who's outgrown the old cat flap. A load of washing is in the machine. Both were over by 10:30.
All of which means that, nothwithstanding my lingering winter cold, mornings these days have pretty much returned to normal, typical mornings. I'll take that.
2 comments:
I still watch what I put next to the bed (in case Figs knocks it off), or pause a second before I put clothes on the bed in case they get covered with cat hair (which hasn't been on the comforter in almost a year).
These things do take time, of course. It really is a process.
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