Only little Balthasar is left of all the kittens now. The rest have gone to start their real lives with new people.
Some went quietly, some went indifferently, some said grave goodbyes and one little one, Mirja, wailed with grief. That was hard. But she has moved to very nice people and by now has probably forgotten that she ever used to sleep in a pile of sibling fur.
Balthasar is a little bewildered and a little bored. Cause mummy doesn't like to play, she prefers sitting in the window sill, looking for boyfriends. Even if she's been neutered now and can't blame raging hormones for her behaviour.
But she can blame spring. It's here, you know, finally. Grünerløkka is suddenly teeming with people, strolling about, browsing in the little shops, huddling in the sun while sipping beer too cold to hold without gloves.
No beer for me, and not much strolling, but in the apartment, the sun pours in through dusty panes, mildly heating the floor boards, highlighting the dust and grime, illuminating sweet, messy kitten fur.
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The same spring sun is streaming through my windows. It highlighted so much dust and grime that I went into an unscheduled cleaning frenzy this morning.
It does not help that much of the crud that accumulates in our apartment is largely comprised of sweet, messy kitten fur. Not that I'd have it any other way, of course.
We only get second hand sun in our livingroom. It reflects off some of the windows on the other side of the street and then into our apartment.
A dim sort of sunlight that reminds me that spring is fighting and winning outside, but it reveals almonst non of winter's sins.
Sun is for puny humans. Real characters like me like it more moist.
Kjeld
Kjeld, if you have not seen it yet, please go find "Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog" on the Internet and watch it. Dr. Horrible has a sidekick named Moist. That's his only superpower...he can make things damp.
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