This morning when I let all the livestock outside (on nice summer days they’re just a little EAGER to get out there), Sneakers stood in line with all the rest. He ambled onto the deck, took a few deep breaths of fresh air, and went onto the lawn. About half an hour later he was back at the door, waiting to be let back in. It’s a good life.
Now he’s had his breakfast, drank his water bowl down to the last fraction of an inch, and is smug on the man cave bed. I plucked a couple of monstrous eye boogers and gave him head pets. That resulted in his level of arrogance rising another couple notches. Note the crossed paws, the level of relaxation, the entire feline je ne sais quoi. It’s a good life for an old man.