Talk about your cats much?

Coal has recently decided that my pillow is for SHARING. He generously leaves me a small corner on the lower left-hand-side to place my head, as long as I don't complain when he flings his winter-fluffy tail over my face, or steps on my hair. I am allergic to cats. I sneeze eleventy million times every morning. Sometimes I say swears.

And, since there has been entirely too much cat-blogging of late, I will get this out of my system and then get back to more important blog topics, such as the fact that for the first time since Lester B Pearson was PM, my house resembles clean. If you don't look too close. Not every room, (what do you want from me!) but many of them.

Anyway.

Miss Bella is not speaking to me. Silent treatment all the way. The novelty of having the contents of a syringe squirted down her throat twice per day has faded. I feel better about it in light of the fact that she is also huffy with KD, the pill dispenser. When we come into her room she heads for her perch off in the corner and deliberately turns her back on us. Well, I am not here to be liked, I'm here to get you healthy! (Sniff... Tear...)