The madam

Cleo turned 18 today. A few weeks ago she was very ill and I didn't think she was going to make it, but she's back to making biscuits in my hair every night as I go to sleep (or as I lay tossing and turning) and howling for breakfast each morning at 5 a.m.
She played with the feathers like a kitten tonight until Cooper couldn't stand it anymore and made off with them.