From Mom Carol
This morning, with the temps hovering in the single digits, I couldn't find Paprika anywhere. After a minute of searching, I noticed a suspicious lump in the blanket pile. One layer after another... and there she was. Buried deep, cozy as can be. Here’s how she claims it went down:
Paprika's Story (hear me MEOW!) (reluctantly thawed)
This morning began as any sensible winter morning should: with burrowing. I had constructed a perfectly engineered cave system beneath three pillows, two fleece blankets, and one mildly annoyed sister. It was warm. It was secure. It was mine.
Then came The Intrusion.
"Paprika?"
Rustling. Peeling. A shaft of cold air broke through my top blanket layer like an arctic searchlight. I stayed still, hoping to remain blanket-colored and invisible. No such luck.
"Where IS she??"
(They always get loud when they panic.)
Eventually, a hand reached in and extracted me, like a prized truffle from the forest floor. I emerged blinking, mildly damp, and absolutely appalled. Was the house on fire? No. Was breakfast ready? Also no. Apparently, they just wanted to know where I was. Humans. 🙄
Luckily, Peaches was too busy sitting on the heating vent to gloat.
I’ve since reburrowed.
If you need me... don’t.
— Paprika, Survivor of the Great Morning Excavation
We are joining the Cat On My Head's sunday hop to see what other furballs are doing today. Were YOU rudely awakened?
