melancholia...
seems to have stricken everyone here at stately sad old goth... manor. Even pussycat. Perhaps it's the fact that the mice have moved out, now that winter seems to be gone. Perhaps the shorter nights, hence less sleep has caught up with her. She is a strange cat... she actually sleeps at night. Usually on my bed, between my legs, or on top of my feet. She snores. But now, she is bored. Maybe she's just upset that she didn't get a shot at the Emu before the Lincoln Navigator did...