Today we took the cat out for a little bit. He wanted to really run around. We debated just letting him stay out. Instead, he was out for about an hour, around the house but not straying too far. He climbed really high in a tree and B.B. Av ran to get the camera. By then, he had fallen out. Took a big whack but was apparently ok. I was tempted to let him stay out, because he's going nuts in here and tearing up the house. I was also impressed at his skills, I thought he was kind of lame and would get eaten up out in the big world. But once out there, he climbed and fell like a champ, and had a totally different look on his face - was wild again, and not the little cuddly thing that has been rolling around here.
But after this week, which has been hard for so many reasons (young death in the ER on call, huge interpersonal blowup which still has me hurting), I just really didn't want this stupid little cat to run away. So finally I grabbed him and brought him inside. He was angry, and for the first time, really scratched me on the neck. I forgive him, of course, and now he is curled up on my lap licking himself. Such is love. I wish I could love more than a cat, but it's just too hard anymore.
Here are a few shots.