Rain today, too much for me and my camera. Off and on, it pelted the roof, bringing black walnuts down with it in an explosive cannonade. Inside, I worked online, and read (for work), and worked online some more. In between bouts, though, like a wine connoisseur, I cleansed my palate: no words, just kittens and a mama cat, being kittens and their mama.
Watching them, I slide down memory to my first cat, a marmalade, and all those since. Such pleasure in something seemingly inconsequential: the biggest of the litter leaping about, the little white several paces behind, the creamy one patting his mother so she'll turn to the side and offer a nipple (my own cat pats me like that when I am about to fall asleep, only she wants petting), the last one falling asleep with its head in the hole of a cat play toy.
I dare you to watch and not smile, even if you're a dog person.
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