Thursday, March 3, 2016

And Occasionally She Cuddles

Last night when I was cuddled down into the bed I realized that there was a crunching noise coming from the corner of the room. I peeked above my covers to see in the shadows that Maurice was eating something.
Oh dear.
I did not turn on the light over there. I did not get up and put on my glasses. I waited for Mr. Moon to come to bed.
Maurice, my cat who had not hours before refused to eat organic cooked chicken innards, was happily chewing up the delicate bits of a mouse.
She is my service animal.
I love her.


  1. Aww, who's a good girl! No doubt she senses your distain for close encounters of the rodent kind! Remy senses my bouts of depression and anxiety and at those times he either sits on my chest and looks blinkingly into my eyes or curls up against my back and purrs. I swear it helps.


  2. See, I like that. If we had mice, I'd have to do something about it and feel terribly guilty, but because we have cats they get killed and I can't feel bad because it's nature.

  3. That's exactly how I feel when Ziggy catches and eats mosquitoes. She knows they try to kill me and she protects me.

    Our familiars are really something.


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