His Majesty

Today was a dark and grey, with a dusting of snow that quickly melted once the temperature rose. The sort of day that one sits by a roaring fire and sips tea or hot chocolate.

I awoke early and stoked the furnace (a little family joke), and was greeted by our cat, Oliver, who convinced me to feed him. I think he was a bit surprised that I didn't put him off until later, and about fifteen minutes after he started his feast, I heard the bedroom door creak open.

After jumping directly on my hip, he slumped over in a Fancy Fest induced slumber,
leaving me unable to move without disturbing him. Shortly thereafter, I was forced to ask him, "Ol, my bud, could you please move to your corner of the bed?"

He looked at me, gave me a slightly p-o'd look, and settled onto his "designated area" with minimum kneading and destruction of "his" blanket. I breathed a sigh of relief as the feeling returned to my right leg.

And so he has remained all day. Mostly curled up in a ball in total lock-down position, but occasionally, waking up and staring at me while I answer emails and do my writing.

He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him, and has no problem sleeping the day away.

Such is the life of a king.