Without thinking, I’m still leaving my bedroom door open – just enough to give me privacy, and just enough to let Sharky go in and out. I don’t think I could close the door completely now; I’d feel claustrophobic.
A couple of nights ago, I was vaguely aware of a cat sleeping on my bed (Molly, judging by the weight) but by the time I woke in the morning, she had gone.
Last night she was sitting on me and got very annoyed when I got up to do some cleaning. She tried to keep me on the sofa by refusing to get off. I left the room and said “she wouldn’t let me leave,” and Mum said “I know, I heard her grumbling.”
I didn’t – interesting.
But Molly would be even more annoyed if she knew WHY I was cleaning upstairs… and why I took Sharky’s bed back to my room (after having sadly taken it out)… and why I wouldn’t let Mum remove his cat food from my sitting room upstairs.
Mysterious things are afoot.