Now that he is joining Loaner and me on the bed, which he had avoided before, he heads straight for my neck and settles down there. This somewhat constrains my movements because Loaner is at my left hip as well. Still, the effect of so much family closeness sends me straight to dreamland.
But there is one other matter to contend with. Bijou will reach up now and then and bite me on the chin or cheek or nose. Are they love bites? Those of my readers who know kittens, what do you think? In the morning I give myself a fright at the mirror at seeing blood tracks on my face. I don’t know what else to do to discourage him except by tapping him on the nose and saying BIJOU! sharply.
He gets pretty wild scampering up and down the bed until Loaner, at the end of her patience, goes WAAH! whacks him and manages to do what I can’t. It is Mojo all over again. That boy would go berserkers then suddenly cuddle, eyes closed, with melting sweetness. When he was really little he kneaded my shoulder, uttering meows of contentment. People try to lessen the sorrow of losing him by telling me he might be living with someone else. Compared to the image of him being mauled by a predator, I can almost hope that is the case, even if I don’t care for him wanting to be with anyone else. Complicated, isn’t it?
Photo: Bijou is behind the rose bush