|Kitten in Window, A|
|Rocco atop the duvet|
In particular, within our bedroom, Rocco is most partial to our big, doorless closet. That is, he’s made our linen and blanket shelf his bed and, way in the deep cupboard recesses, is his Greta Garbo space. When I feel all crowded and penned in by the world, I need Garbo digs too. Don’t we all?
I worry when the kittens make themselves scarce—have they gotten out?! I hunt around until I find their hidey holes. and then, with mind at ease, I leave them to enjoy their peaceful seclusion. See? I can SO be respectful of personal space!
Getting back to Coco’s rack room entrée—she planted herself, in full meatloaf kata, in front of the open closet, right in front of our boy’s linen shelf bed. Rocco, however, was back in his Garbo space. Was he hiding from her? Coco can get fairly ferocious. Yes, yes she can.
|Coco in her new bed box|
|Kitten in Window, B|
No, he says, she’s just sitting there.
It was then that he explained THUNDER. Ah. Would they, left to their own devices, no-pressure-here, end up cozied up together in Rocco’s Garbo space? Maybe she was waiting for him to come out so they could have a kvetch session about the weather, their lazy servant (moi) who was late with the brekkie that morning and the recent, inferior quality of the treats.
No, it was not to be. Either the thunder passed or she just got sick of waiting for Rocco to emerge. Our princess went off to her own special hideout in TAB’s study.
One of these days, they’ll be friends. I’m certain of it! Kind of.
Songs that my tuxes will probably never sing to eachother:
Best Fried—Harry Nilsson
You've Got A Friend—Carole King
Lean on Me—Bill Withers
Thank You for Being a Friend—Andrew Gold
Just FYI and all.