[ Loiosh, an orange tabby, is laying on my footstool, his front half draped possessively over Jasper’s box of fancy cereal. One hindleg is draped casually over the edge of the footstool. ]
Occasionally he’s horrible, but I don’t get pictures of that near as often as I do of him on the warmy spot. That’s because of the shrieking. Which I’m doing. When he’s being horrible. Look, he’s fifteen years old & STILL exhausting.
Jasper did get his cereal back, but it took a while.
ANYWAY peaceful sleeping cat, let’s gooooooo
[ Loiosh is absolutely flopped on the warmy spot, which is now on a pillow, underneath a lovely crocheted fabric in purple, blue, teal, and green, perfect mermaidy colors. One forepaw is curled as if he fell asleep while kneading. Both hind legs trail off the pillow. ]
So. Asleep. He didn’t twitch a whisker when I came in for the closeup.
[ A closeup. He’s got the side of his face smushed into the nice soft fabric. His one visible eye is just barely open, but not like he’s waking up, more like he’s so asleep he forgot to entirely close it. ]
I really do need to get another warmy spot — there are frequent slapfights — but that’s waiting til we have the last four solar panels up. In the meantime, sometimes Loiosh winds up on my pillow. Usually within two(2) inches of my face.
[ A pretty close view of Loiosh’s face, clearly taken with the flash on. He looks mostly asleep but his ears are just slightly tilted to the side. ]
I had to lean WAY BACK to even GET that one, & I only managed one shot before he wiggled his face RIGHT ON TOP OF MINE AGAIN. He’s the WORST.