Still life, with cats.

Not much to say tonight, but I’m awake and can’t get back to sleep and am trying very hard not to pick up the latest Laundry novel because if I do I’m going to finish it rather than go back to sleep.

I went downstairs for a warm drink, and was cornered in the kitchen by three sadly hungry cats.  “Feed us,” their eyes said. “You weren’t doing anything important, so feed us–and then hang around and adjudicate to make sure Newcat doesn’t steal all the food in Mediumcat’s dish, and Oldcat gets hers allllll to herself. You didn’t want to try going back to sleep, did you? Look, we’re cute. Feed us.”

(Given that it’s actually kind of important that we find out ASAP if Oldcat goes off her food again, I actually do need to keep an eye on her when she’s eating to see if she’s eating her food, or if the amount’s just decreasing because one of the other cats dove in when she wandered away for a bit.  And given that she’s really too skinny, whenever she indicates that she wants food we give her food, because then she will have more food and hopefully put on some weight.  And what this all boils down to is that I spent twenty minutes in the kitchen watching her mumble away at her wet cat food when I would much rather have spent five minutes in the kitchen making myself a hot drink and then ten minutes upstairs poking at the computer before going back to bed.)

(But she’s eating, so I don’t really mind.)

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