Letting down my guard

Companions are silent and have been for hours. Last I checked they were snuggling on the bed, so I potter about the kitchen totally lost in thought. I taste this, I salt that. I sing a little tune.

But Kai, that prankster, that predator, has been watching me. He lies crouched in the recesses of Under-the-Couch, giggling to himself and waiting for just the right moment. The right moment turns out to be as I'm walking from the sink to the stove with a (very (very)) full pan of water.

"Now!" he thinks. And before my brain can even register the clickety-clickety of approach, Kai races in, launches himself at my knees, zips around the kitchen and out again. The echoes of my shriek fade away as I'm left gasping and teetering on my tippy toes, trying to soothe the sloshing waves of water in the pan.

Later I'm paper-towelling the floor and he reappears looking quiet and surprised. "So this is what you do in your spare time?"

Fine dining

Still worth it

I think now there's no going back. The bedroom door has been left open for the past three nights, and they are such a comfort when I wake in the middle of the night. Kai's face looms in the darkness, his warm clear eyes shine, he sniffs my forehead to say hello and then he's gone, off on pressing kitten business.

Just before I slipped into sleep, Meera draped herself across my ankles, as if to remind my almost-unconscious self that moving my legs would have serious and immediate consequences. But at some point during the night I forgot this, and woke to Kai nipping--quite ferociously--at the edge of my foot. I swept him off the bed with the foot not under attack, and said No! as forcefully as I could to him, in the dark, in the night, with people sleeping below me. I heard the thump of his soft paws hit the carpeting, and then the thump of his soft paws as he jumped back up. And now he thinks it's a game. Oh dear, oh dear.

Keeping me company

Basking (while semi-distracted)

A nose of our own

Graceful when they want to be

All morning I tried to get one of the two to cuddle with me. Occasionally Kai would stand still long enough for me to kind of rub his cheek, and then he'd twist around and head off in the opposite direction. Meera was nowhere to be found. Of course.

Then I took out a deck of cards. I shuffled. I set up a little solitaire action. And magically they both appeared, snuggly and affectionate and mewly, scattering my cards with their eager little feet and being totally distracting.

These are the same feet that regularly navigate an end table loaded with precarious piles of books, full water glasses, random collections of pens, and various e-paraphernalia (cellphone, camera, etc.), without moving a single object. But bring out the cards, and suddenly they're clumsy as anything.

I could get used to this

Pure sweetness last night. For once, the kittens didn't attack my feet when I climbed into bed. Toe-attacks really freak me out. Instead of slowly sliding under the covers like I usually do, last night I just hopped in, pulled the covers up, and lay still. And miracle of all miracles, they remained curled up in little furry packets o' stripe. Meera raised her head and winked at me, then went back to sleep. No fangs, no claws, no dilated pupils. Later in the middle of the night, Kai ducked under the covers and curled into the corner of me. Brat used to do that.

Cooperative grooming

Taking a peek