Meow Meow here again. Mom is still knitting and I'm taking my naps all over her equipment. Occasionally, she has to sneak her scissors or tape measure out from under my tummy, but I don't mind. I like keeping them warm -- like this book I'm resting on.
Mom says this creature in the picture is what I'll be meeting early next year. Looks fairly innocuous. Mom also tried to explain that this is the same thing as the baby I met last weekend when her friends came over for lunch. I'm not sure I liked that one -- she made me nervous because she wanted to pet me but couldn't figure out how not to grab my fur instead of stroke it. She also liked to slap things with her hands -- the couch, the carpet, the coffee table -- a little too close to me for comfort.
Mom says I did just fine, and I didn't run away (Mom also gave me lots of reassuring chin scratches and let me hide my face against her leg when I needed to). Looking at this picture, though, I'm not convinced that the baby that's coming could be like the one from last weekend. I mean, according to Mom, her baby's movements hardly feel like more than a flutter right now. Flutters = slaps?
Clearly Mom doesn't know what she's talking about.
Happy Thanksgiving, Dear Ones
18 hours ago