If there was ever any question that we spoil them:

Pye, of course, hopped in the dryer when I opened it to take out a load of clothes, and I didn't have the heart to drag her out. I know how wonderful that load of clean-smelling, warm, soft clothes must feel. I guess what I should do is drag her out, dump the clothes in a basket, and then plop her in that . . .

Anyway, I didn't think of that, and I let her stay. She curled up and went to sleep, and I was working on the computer, and I finally decided to get up and go upstairs and get dressed, and on the way, I stopped by the laundry room to see if she was still in there--if she wasn't, I wanted to get the clothes out and dry another load.

Not only was she in there, but Dinah was in there, too, something that has never happened before. I know that seeing two cats cuddled up together isn't very unusual in other households, but it almost never happens here. When it does, it's cause for calling everyone to come look, and taking pictures.

When I got out of bed this morning, I almost stepped on a Christmas ornament--a small, soft stuffed cross-stitched tree that Barb made for us in 1983 (the date is stitched on). Since I wasn't sleeping in the living room, someone (that would be Dinah) removed the ornament from the tree and brought it up to the bedroom to play with during the night.

We've been finding ornaments all over the house, but until this morning, they were confined to the lower level. And so far, they've been the soft kind--I decided that in Dinah's mind, the tree is just a huge cat toy display, from which she can choose her favorites.

Oh, I forgot this: yesterday when I got out of the shower, I was combing out my hair, and Dinah jumped up on the sink, crying. She has this thing for wet hair--she likes to rub her head against it. I have no idea why, it's the weirdest thing . . .

Anyway, she was crying, and I bent down so she could head-butt my wet head, and she reached out her paw, I guess to pat me on the fact like she does sometimes, or maybe to hold my head down while she was rubbing it (I know, she's weird), and she somehow managed to stab me right under the eye with one of her claws.

It made me gasp with pain, and I had to kind of lift her paw and remove the claw from my face without getting hurt any further, and I did, and looked in the mirror to see how bad it was. There was blood streaming down my face, but the wound was fairly superficial. If she had gotten me about an eighth of an inch to my left, she would have poked me right in the eye, and I'm not sure how that would have gone. Fortunately, I didn't have to find out.

It's still painful, but I think I'm going to live.