Last night, shortly after the lights went out, Oliver and I were having a snuggle when we heard a loud crash. I had been dozing off so I don’t know how loud it actually was.
We both perked our ears to listen.
I heard a tiny mew from Obi. I listened some more. Eventually…another mew. Oliver and I were out of bed and searching for the brown kitten. Okay, I was searching. Oliver was hoping I was going to feed them.
I looked on the top floor. I looked on the main floor. I looked in the basement. No Obi. We went upstairs to check that screens were still on all the windows. Then…another mew.
Obi was found, safe and sound, in The Boy’s shower trying to sweet talk a miller moth. Back to bed with me.
With drama such as this, and the fact that I am cheating on him with three other cats, it is no wonder Oliver has felt unsettled lately. Today he was having a tough time napping. When I was available, he was only able to concentrate on sleeping for ten minutes at a time. And then I did things like kitty sitting and taking a walk that required me to leave the house.
The walk was a bad idea. It was 93 degrees and humid outside. This may be nothing to some of you, but Wyoming has no business being 93 degrees and humid in June. At least, as I type this, we are actually getting some rain. And hail, from the sounds of it.
Anyway, I came into the house after my walk, turned on the ceiling fan and plopped down on the couch. And, at last, Oliver was able to get comfortable for an extended nap.
In terms of sweet-talking, did Obi ask the moth: Come here often?
I don’t know what he says to the millers. He certainly needs to work on his lines – they never seem to work.
I live inland and work at the beach. The weather is almost always cool enough to walk in the afternoon at work, and I get really annoyed that the same isn’t true at home on the weekends.
Also, nice picture. In my mind, Obi took it.
I’m sure Obi took it – how would I have taken a picture with 14 pound of grey kitten laying on my face?
Glad you’re back! Esme lays like that on me, too. So it’s a sign of affection? Not that she’s trying to kill me?
Naw, it’s a love suffocation.