I am hiding out from life in my parentals' house in the country. I took the cats with me. They have had a troubling few days. They took a long ride in a car. They met horses. They met a dog. Who comes in the house. We took them for a walk around the verandah. We let them loose in the mouse-ridden garage.
They have been exploring a house about three times the size of my apartment, and finding new places to ambush each other from. The girl cat tried to tell mum who was boss and now won't go near mum. Mum fed the boy cat roast lamb and now he follows her around in case she does it again.
Until last night when she went down to my bedroom to say hello to them (they have been sleeping on my bed and using my room as a safe room where they think the dog can't get them) and couldn't find him.
Until I pointed him out. Lord of all he can see.
I figure I'll get them home and they'll either be bored out of their minds or pathetically grateful.
There has been no knitting. All I have managed is to drink tea and read Eddings.
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