[ Major Tom, a big grey tabby, is laying on a pinky-purple knitted blanket that’s on my bed, next to the wall. ]
Tom’s favourite blanket always starts the day here. Usually, Tom is on it.
But sometime after I get up, he’s got to rearrange, & rearranging means kneading …
[ Tom’s sitting on the blanket, looking down at it intently. One forepaw is up, blurred with motion. ]
[ He’s switched paws; the one that was in motion is on the blanket, and his other forepaw is sticking straight out, toes slightly stretched and blurry. ]
Eventually it’s soft enough for him, & usually by then it’s … drifted.
[ The blanket is stretched out to the center of the bed, and Tom is laying on it, looking smug. ]
[ The blanket has nearly reached the edge of the bed. Tom’s still looking smug. ]
When I’m ready to go to bed, I put the blanket back in its spot, Tom spends most of the night on it, & the next morning, the whole cycle begins again.