Buster pays me a surprise visit

My upstairs neighbor's huge castrate, Buster, is an amazing mix of laid back attitude and astute awareness - like a lot of cats. Today, I was about to wash the communal hallway and had set out my pail of soapy water in the stairwell. I turned back into my kitchen to get my mop, and Buster quietly entered through my open door. I wasn't aware he was out in the stairwell.

Well, what to do? He's a fairly phlegmatic creature, he'd paid me a visit before (looking for my cat), and I knew I could grab him and carry him out, but a better idea hit me - well, it seemed like a good idea at the time: I'd take his picture!

Ever try to take a picture of a cat? Heh. It's a lot like trying to herd them. A cranky, squirming two-year-old would be easier.

Buster heads for my bathroom - my rubber glove gets in the way - Buster heads for bedroom, hall, recliner, bookcase, chair, my fuzzy slipper, sofa, hall. His best pose? That last one, outdoors at the foot of the cherry tree. Sigh. So close, and yet so far.

Comments

Tusen takk for den fantastiske kommentaren på siden min - den var virkelig nydelig. Så rart det er at fremmede mennesker bryr seg - det betyr veldig mye!
Keera Ann Fox said…
Hyggelig å høre fra deg på min blog, Kristin! Du virker som en hyggelig og god person og å miste noen nær og kjær er en smerte jeg kjenner for godt, så jeg måtte si noe.

Buster var forøvrig til trøst da katten min døde; det var første gang han kom inn til meg. Jeg tror han visste.

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