my free moment

Mr. Q joined our family in January of 2000 after a pregnancy hormone induced announcement that I "had no friends".   Thayer left the house and came back with a cat.
And then I cried about how inconvenient an animal would be.  
(poor Thayer)

For 15 years I have managed to keep that cat fairly trained.   He is basically a dog in cat's clothing.
I've maintained a strict rule that no animals are allowed on the couches.... unless they are in a lap or on a blanket.   And absolutely no animals in my bed.  ever.
 Mr. Q is smart about these things.  
The Blueberry cat is not.   She needs reminders about the couches.  (and thankfully she's never even thought about touching my bed.)

Something has recently changed.
I've become soft.

Poor old Mr. Q is ancient and frail.    Over the past few months, I have had many thoughts of  "he won't be with us much longer.   It won't hurt if he sits on the couch.  I'll deal with it."
(also keeping in mind that I'm getting new furniture when the cats are gone)  :)
He's skinny and pathetic at times.

One morning I walked by and saw him on my bed.   I had a passing thought of "let him be" and I did.
About ten minutes later I walked by and he had puked ALL over my duvet and feathers.
Of course he did.   Argh.

I vowed at that moment to upkeep the rule in play.  No cats on my bed.  ever.

But... a few days later, he was back again.   And instead of reprimanding, I left him there.
And yesterday too.
As I walk by his eyes get big, expecting discipline.... but then he settles down as if to mock me.

The cats know I've gone soft.
They have taken over the couches in the living room.   It is so disgusting.   It goes against every fiber in my being.    

As I sit here typing... this just happened... right in front of me.
A mess.



My dream couches are worn leather.
In time, my friends   In time.