There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.- W. Somerset Maugham
I just ask that you remember this while reading my book.
It is 9:00 a.m.and 4 degrees out (-15 C). We are a bit late getting out of the gate this morning. And Sundance tried to kill me last night by running under my feet when I was on my way to bed. I fell -- not on her, lucky cat! -- and landed on my hands and knees, bumping (slightly) my head on the bed. Fortunately not even a bruise on my head, but it did jars the old Dodd joints.
And then she looked at me like I was trying to hurt her! She's all cuddled up in the Snuggie on the sofa now, so I made sure to pet her until she purred. I guess we've made up.
1 comment:
"And then she looked at me like I was trying to hurt her!"
That is classic cat thinking. The same thing happens here all the time. I joke with Vincent that while he sleeps all the play on his like he is their personal playground. He has no clue of course as he sleeps like a rock.
If he moves in the slightest, they stare at him in such disgust that he is trying to ruin their play time.
BTW, I am still reading the novel as is my BFF Tara.
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