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Who'd Have Guessed?
Phoebe makes me so happy, purring on my lap while I type here, that I've got nearly no drive to communicate. I'm using the excuse of typing to keep her lying here.
I'm wearing my "cat-pants," which are an old pair of charcoal-gray, Girbaud baggy pants, of thick, cotton-jersey, so that she can knead while purring and not scratch my thighs.
Who knew that she could make me feel like a child-like mother? Child-like because she's fun to have as company for petting, and like a mother because I want to ensure her safety and satedness.
I hope I learn to incorporate Phoebe into my creative process less disruptively at some point, but I can't help being joyfully distracted by her meanwhile.