physics & kittens
She'd made coffee and put it in its pot where it would stay warm, got out the cups, washed them, and settled down to read for awhile. Austen had wandered over after a few minutes of attacking a pair of socks, the folded socks in her mouth as she mewed around them and then shoved them in Lam's face. It was obvious that reading wasn't going to work as the kitten dropped her prize right on top of the paragraph she had read twice now.
"What?" she finally asked and Austen peered at her, nose to nose for the longest time before she let out a distinctively questioning and oddly scratchy meow. "You've been fed. Don't try and tell me you haven't."
Austen batted at the socks for a moment and lost interest as she knocked her head against Lam's cheek. There was only so much she could take before she was petting and quietly talking to the kitten. Eventually, Austen was sprawled out against Lam's side, taking up every conceivable inch she could reach and purring extremely loudly. Somewhere during that time-span, Lam herself had nodded off and the book she'd been reading dangled from her fingers, barely supported by the thin padding that made up Mitchell's neatly made bed.
Austen's paws were draped over Lam's arm as if she were somehow exerting some force of nature to keep the woman there, locked in place and right where she was wanted. It was very much a cat thing, and Lam shifted slightly in her sleep. The book slid from her fingers and hit the floor.
Neither cat nor woman even stirred.
"What?" she finally asked and Austen peered at her, nose to nose for the longest time before she let out a distinctively questioning and oddly scratchy meow. "You've been fed. Don't try and tell me you haven't."
Austen batted at the socks for a moment and lost interest as she knocked her head against Lam's cheek. There was only so much she could take before she was petting and quietly talking to the kitten. Eventually, Austen was sprawled out against Lam's side, taking up every conceivable inch she could reach and purring extremely loudly. Somewhere during that time-span, Lam herself had nodded off and the book she'd been reading dangled from her fingers, barely supported by the thin padding that made up Mitchell's neatly made bed.
Austen's paws were draped over Lam's arm as if she were somehow exerting some force of nature to keep the woman there, locked in place and right where she was wanted. It was very much a cat thing, and Lam shifted slightly in her sleep. The book slid from her fingers and hit the floor.
Neither cat nor woman even stirred.