The Dukester

My friend MMH came visiting with her digital camera not long ago, and was accosted by this ham. Duke, you see, thinks he's a dog at the very least, or a small person, rather than a cat. He's decided that the 1850s settee is just his size. The upholstery sets off his coloring well, don't you agree? Nineteen pounds of one-eyed splendor and excellent company, that's he. He pads in from bed when I get settled on the couch for the morning, snugs up next to my thigh, and snoozes in place long after I start messing around elsewhere. At some point in the afternoon he heads for the settee and sleeps until Saint H gets home.

It's just been in the past couple of months that my body temperature has returned to something approaching normal. Previously I froze, always, and layered in sweaters and blankets even when it was 95 degrees outside. I still have my chilly moments and always take a shawl or sweater to restaurants (heaven knows they're almost too cold for other people too) but it's nice to be warm again. I can tolerate Duke's radiance pretty well still - he's never been a lapcat unless I am in a certain chair - but have been known to (gasp) push him away from time to time. That would have been unthinkable two months ago!