This morning, Pooka tried out some new living room perches. She usually opts for a couch cushion, but today she tested both the chair and the windowsill. Chair cushion on the windowsill was ultimately the winner, and she sacked out in the sun for a bit. I didn't dare get up for the camera; when I finally reached for my cell phone she decided it was time to move, too. Hence the alert-looking animal in the photo.We've been running around Greenlake at night a few times a week, me with a headlamp and Pook with my red bicycle tail light clipped to her harness. We occasionally blind each other, but it's basically a good system for seeing and being seen in the dark. Until the last few times, Pooka was indifferent to the various waterfowl bobbing in the water. But then, one night, it hit her: They're floating cats! Now, running is occasionally derailed as a duck flutters or squawks and P.'s prey drive kicks in. And she goes nuts on the dock, back and forth as the ducks gracefully drift away, and return, drift and return.
I know I haven't posted much; things have fallen into a nice rhythm of walking, running, park and relaxing. We haven't been skiing since the last time; the roads have been bad and I've been lazy or busy. In general, her digestive woes have passed, though she's been very, very funny the last 24 hours or so: She assumed the poop position last night, and atone point let loose a loud bit of gas. What? Her head whipped around, as if she couldn't imagine she'd have made such a racket. It happened again this morning twice just as she sat down. The look of surprise and confusion was priceless.
