Front And Center

Ralph, in a rarely seen contemplative moment on a rainy, windy day.  Not racing up and down the hall or up and down the stairs, not tussling with Celeste, not sliding across the kitchen floor, not batting piglets back and forth, just sitting quietly.  It didn't last long.

I could have batted him this morning.  Admittedly, I get up unnecessarily early, but I like to do it on my terms, and 4:30 is where I draw the line.  Three-thirty a.m., and Ralph is going around the bedroom knocking things over and off the bureaus, plink, plonk, plop.  He comes up on my pillow and wants to get into the cat cave.  I lift the cover, he crawls in to snuggle, but before I could get back to sleep, he leaves.  He left to start a hiss-and-bite fight with Celeste, who had also been trying to sleep on the bed by my feet.  Okay, all right, I'm up!  Ralph certainly knows how to get attention.

It's going to be a long day.