Move Over!

Since the dead tree down by the barn fell, parking space for the vultures is pretty limited.  On our walk yesterday morning, Michael and I saw 30-50 of the big birds circling in a vortex overhead and 15 or so more on posts, wires, and on the ground.  This close to September, they're gathering for the big migration.  From my chair I have a view of two power poles and wires and can see the vultures vying for the prime spots.  "Move over!"  "No, I was here first!"  There is some bumping and shoving while they sort things out.  Those who lose their position on the poles do a very awkward balancing act on the wires that would make the Wallendas laugh.  So graceful in the air, vultures are lousy pedestrians.

Florence came over yesterday, bringing some "costumes" Michael's prior owner had left:  St. Patrick's Day doodle bobbers and a green bow tie, a sparkly Santa headband, and a Halloween pointy hat with attached orange wig.  Given Michael's lack of humor, I can only imagine what the look on his face will be when the holidays come around.                  

Florence also brought a bag of Michael treats, the kind he was used to.  I showed her the kitchen counter that has not one, not two, but five different kinds of treats for Michael, and that's not counting the big box of milk bones in the round room.  Okay, I'm not above a little bribery.  (The cat treats are on another counter.)

At bedtime, Michael gets in bed first, inevitably on my side.  "Move over!"  "No, I was here first!"  I squeeze into what space he's left and hope I don't fall off during the night.  So far, so good.