Day 302: Merry loves his Mama. He can't bear to have me out of his sight for even a minute, following me into every room, and if I seem to be going to stay there for any length of time, curling up in one of his various cat-nests so that he is close to me. His little weaver's box is one area I've talked about frequently, but out in the kitchen on a shelf near the back door is the Pretty-Kitty Box, a cardboard box which once held half-pint canning jars and is now lined with a cushy hand-woven cotton pad. If I'm taking a bath, he roosts on the bathroom counter until I'm done. Our weather has been rather warm of late, so he's not keen on sitting on my lap, and often as not, he is sleeping sunny-side-up in my desk chair or in the middle of the floor, tummy exposed to my predations. That said, sometimes he wants the close feeling of Mama without the actual physical contact. Such was the case when he pulled my flannel shirt off the a loom where I had tossed it, and claimed it for his own.
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