Oh, the Woo, the Woo.
She is so very old now and she reminds me of a very special, if a bit threadbare, beloved toy. She spends her day sleeping, meeowing - to me, but mostly to herself - threatening a fur ball, sleeping some more, eating some more and pestering me for anything I have on my plate.
In the past week she has so far eaten: a bran flake, a piece of apricot, a bit of scrambled egg and some lettuce. She is not phased by the fact that it did not come from a pouch - all she cares about is the taste.
However, in her ripe old age of, we would wager, 16 years old, she loves none of this compared to her adoration of the sun.
Never in the morning, only in the afternoon, you can find her, spark out, on the end of the bed. In her deafness, you do not have to worry yourself with waking her, unless you blunder into the edge of the bedstead with your thigh. She will not be disturbed by your effing and jeffing - just by the movement.
She might open one eye and spy you with mixture of love and hatred. Her slumber was interrupted (scowl) but she still loves you (purr).
At this point she usually stretches out and goes straight back to sleep. I feel so guilty if she gets up and, sun drunk, totters over to me.
I much prefer to let her get on with her daily soak.