Ralph is such a dufus, he gets more page space than his sister, but Celeste has some definite quirks of her own worth noting. I've mentioned before how she herds me to the kitchen for treats. What I didn't tell is that, without fail, she gives a thank-you rub up before taking a first bite. (Ralph doesn't have the same good manners.) When Celeste wants lap time, there is absolutely no saying no to her. I've tried ignoring her or pushing her away but, like a cork in water, she pops up and settles herself while I'm trying to figure out how she did that. While Celeste doesn't look it, she packs quite a few more pounds than Ralph and she's as solid as a rock. She's a darn near immovable lump. I didn't realize I was starting something when, on a particularly cold day, I huffed warm breath on the back of her neck. Now it's a ritual. She jumps up on my lap and stretches her head up, showing me right where she wants me to breathe. A word of advice, don't do this if you've just put on lip balm or you'll have a mohair mouth. We are heading into weed seed season, and Bessie brings in foxtails and whirligigs every time she comes in the house. This evidently bothers Celeste. She goes about like a four-legged Hoover or Roomba, cleaning up the bits. I always wanted a maid.
Those new windshield wipers will not do me any good in the cab of the truck. First order of business today will be to install them. If I can get Celeste off my lap.