nap in sun

nap. a window in
sun. soft cushion. quiet peace.
life of a house cat.

tuxedo cat (named dot), sleeping on a wide windowsill. she is asleep on a cushion with dots. her right paw is extended and her left paw tucked under.

lights, camera, nap.

Dot wishes the lights in my studio were part of our home automation system.

tuxedo cat napping on a crochet blankjet, one front paw is draped over the cats eyes.

That way, I’d be able to shut them off from my couch, far from the switch near the door.

She slept with her paw covering her eyes for a while before shifting to a different position. It’s her favourite, curled up with her face smooshed into the blanket.

happy place, studio edition

A few weeks ago, I moved my monitors 6 inches. Even though it was a very subtle shift, the dynamics of my desk changed. Dot kept looking at some blankets that were folded in the corner then walking away.

Earlier this week I put the blankets in a box.

Dot, a tuxedo cat, asleep in a cardboard box that once held mason jars. The box is in the corner of my  desk. A mug with a broken handle holds some cat grass (and dirt) sits in front of the box. There are bits dot chewed or clawed out of the mug in next to it.
Dot in her happy place

Within about five minutes, as I suspected there was also a cat in the box. It’s her new favorite place. Boxes are the best!


Dot hopes your treats are yummy and make you happy.

Dot, a tuxedo cat, caught licking her lips while eating a tube-based cat treat. Her front paws are on her person's leg and his hands are preparing more tube-treat.

Content Dot

It’s still amazing to me how much Dot has grown and adapted to life as a solo cat over the past few months. She loves evening lap time with a hand-knit blanket (in progress) and E next to us.

Tuxedo cat asleep on a knit blanket draped on her person's legs. Her other person's feet are next to her. They are wearing handknit socks.
Dot asleep with one paw up in the air. Every so often she’d open her eyes and turn her head to make sure E was still there.

We miss Shadow, we always will. Grief is complex. I still think that this ball and box (and button) analogy is the best I’ve ever read to describe it. I like to imagine I carry one box with balls (of varying size) for each grief. Sometimes the balls careen off each other and tip off the button to bring memories of both to the front of my brain. This week I’ve been remembering fondly both good times Shadow … and my Great Aunt (1921-2004). I’ll be the first to say it’s an odd combination but these are comforting memories and I hope both knew how much I loved them.