For the third (or maybe fourth) year in a row a bird has shown up and spent hours trying to come in the French doors in my bedroom. I don't know if it's the same bird or if the flock designates one member to flutter repeatedly and hopelessly against the glass. Maybe I'll put some rice out on the patio for it. Wonder if it is one of those who has been eating my little tomato plants.
Inky Dink has me trained as her masseuse. She gets on my lap and plants her front feet on my chest and looks off into space while I pet her. If I stop too soon she scratches at my chest. I'm quite well trained and proud of myself while she takes it all for granted.
