There were two moose munching down on the wind-tossed alders at the edge of the deck when I went downstairs this morning to get the cream for my coffee.
In the past couple weeks, it has finally sunk into Clarence's narrow little Siamese head that *I* will protect him from Frannie. That if he is nestled up against me on the bed, he is safe. So now he sticks close to me at night and rubs against me and rolls under my stroking hands in a revelry of pleasure and security.
It is gratifying to see when I remember what a frightened, unhappy little kitten he was just a year ago.