Remember this post? The one where I showed you how my mother utterly spoils my cats? Well, as a result of her visit, Tig now has a nightly routine with me (or at least, I thought it was just with me) where he must attack me under the covers. Well, I’m taking care of Sarah’s eldest son, Jake, while she and Larry manage next-oldest boy’s tenth birthday sleepover. And Jake has a bar mitzvah to attend today, so we just had him sleep over Aunt Meryl’s, who will drive him to synagogue this morning. Meantime, Tig decided that he has a nightly routine with anyone who happens to be in a bed, and so we have this:
That’s Tig attacking Jake’s feet under the cover. This morning, Jake told me that Tig was in and out of his room much of the night, since he left the door open. I’m a little surprised, because Tig was sleeping on my shins through what I thought was the entire night (but obviously only the post-2 a.m. part, and we know the time because Jake was sleepless until then, he says).
Tig likes visitors. Especially their feet, it seems.
That’s a Dr. Dolittle book in Jake’s hand. It turns out that he read one or two, and wanted to read the rest but couldn’t find them. They’re out of print. Well, Aunt Meryl has them all, and constantly looks for new copies to supplement the ones falling apart.
Off to make breakfast. And shut off the Wii. (Yes, I know. I’m such a good aunt.)
They both look happy.
Tig is growing and furryed up for winter.
Yes, it was a very happy home while Jake was here. It’s still happy, but far less active.
Plus, he told me that I made him the best French toast he’s had in his life.
It doesn’t get much better than that.
Dr. Doolittle is out of print? Now _that’s_ a crime against humanity.
Two of the Dr. Doolittle books are already on Project Gutenberg. Perhaps you could scan one or two yourself as part of the conservation effort.
abebooks.com