Poor Tuesday doesn’t like it when either of us is gone for too long. He’s been my shadow since Mr. Pea left, for the most part–sits with me, sleeps on me, whines at me. The whining has definitely picked up in the last couple of days, as has the crazy. This morning he stared at a wall, meowed at it, and then stretched up its length. I’ve found him on Mr. Pea’s dresser (a big jump), he’s been scratching the carpets more often, and won’t play with me when I try to entice him with his toys. Today he started to play and then changed his mind and meowed at me instead. Maybe he didn’t want to get up at 7:30; maybe he’s losing his marbles. He is ten, after all. But I figured that he probably was just bored. So I built him a little blanket fort over two dining room chairs–this way he has an upstairs and a downstairs. It’s held together at the corners by clothespins, and I threw a couple of his toys in there. He likes pawing at the toys I put on the sheet, too. Right now he’s sitting under it, sticking his head out, looking at the bird feeder. The birds haven’t been here in a while, since he last scared the hell out of them (it’s a window feeder–he runs up to the window, and they fly away), but the rain is making the same tapping sound on the feeder that the birds do, so I guess he’s hopeful. At the very least, he’s got a new place to hide, and I might get a little meow-free time this morning. Now if only I had a blanket fort, my unedited article on the outside, my syllabi far away, and me, snuggly and warm, with a novel.