A few minutes ago, I heard Fey jump onto the bed. I lifted up the blankets, wondering if she would poke her head in and then rapidly pull it out, finding some other place to be. She didn’t. She went straight under the covers. Then she went over the lowest blanket and under the rest, down near my belly. I felt her paws scrabbling around while she turned around several times. Then she finally curled up, and is still lying there, one blanket separating her from me.

I remember being the size of maybe two or three cats, and the way blankets turned into an interesting series of caves. But now I am much less maneuverable, and much taller. But it’s still nice to be burrowed under blankets with a cat on a day like this. (And I have to say she chose a better spot than the time about a year ago when she burrowed into my crotch while I was asleep and I dreamed I was giving birth.)