Who among us hasn't envied a cat's ability to ignore the cares of daily life and to relax completely? (Karen Brademeyer)
This morning we did gardening. Tom mowed the lawn, I raked up the grass, and Lily ran round and round and round the garden. "I'm running! I'm runnning!" We dug out all the summer veggies from the garden. Lily rolled and dug, and half buried herself in this new stinky soil. "My favourite!"
Today has been a slow day. I having been feeling a bit low in energy, have a bit of a cold. So I decided after lunch to lie down, relax, perchance to sleep. It wasn’t to be. Lily wanted to join me; "playtime: my favourite!" She leapt about standing on my face which I covered with a blanket, so she thought it would be fun to bite me inviting me play (as one does. If one is a puppy). I lay completely still while her sharp little teeth sunk into arm, then my wrist was enveloped by her jaw. No response from me. She ran to get her toothbrush ("Toothbrush: my favourite!") from the bathroom and gnawed this on my body for a while, making the bed bounce and jiggle. Then it was time to bury the toothbrush: in my ribs. Much ‘digging’ pursued. When she realised this wasn’t working she buried it amongst Tom’s pillows. (Note to self: had better warn Tom that there is chewed toothbrush sticking out from his pillows). "Toes: my favourite!" No, Lily they are not!
Gave this up as a bad idea. Went for a Lily-walk in the forest. Tom had to wait for me to keep up today. Lily, off-leash, decided that it was her favourite(!) to roll in the excretion of some other animal. She had a very spiky, iffy section of fur (once black, now khaki) down one side. Lovely! Tom bathed her in the kitchen sink once home. "Bath-time: ... not my favourite..."