Cat Vomit, a Vole, and a Little Birdie

Good morning Cape Cod.

This morning woke me up, gently, with a loving caress as the harbor breeze blew in from my open bedroom window and played across my face. White bedroom, soft white sheets, gentle breeze, sweet little girl asleep next to me, blonde, with a shell pink tank pj top accenting her brown little arms, her angelic face.

It was a pleasant good morning.

I wanted to get right up and do a little work, maybe blog, check out what's happening for the rest of the week, but my mind wanted to take the time to soak this in, make it linger, not to rush out into the world of doing, but to savor.

I spent another hour an a half doing just that, in bed, dozing on and off, lingering.

When it was time to get up I headed downstairs and into the living room. I was greeted by the vision of my laptop on the hassock, a nice cat vomit half on it half on the furniture, the nice felty dry part of the vomit being actually on my laptop, the juicy part on the footstool.

I walked around the corner to the kitchen to get some paper towel to clean it all up and there, on the floor, was a dead vole, not so juicy, and a dead little bird, very juicy, blood smeared across the floor.

Little gifties from the kitties. Could this be the work of one kitty? Is that possible? Or are they working as a team, Bennie and Rusty, lovely little killing, gifting machines?

Who knows, but I spent a bit of my morning Swiffering like a mad woman.

Good Morning Cape Cod.