This afternoon, through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly, my young charge asked me how I got ‘fur’ stuck to my arm. Looking down in shock, I didn’t see anything. Then I realized he was talking about my arm hair. I explained to him that everyone has arm hair, but he called me a werewolf for the next half hour.
I’ve never been made to feel so self-conscious by a three-year-old before.
In other news, one of my cat charges went rogue today and bolted out the door as soon as I opened it. She is not an outdoor cat, so I was properly horrified and desperate to catch her. She evaded me for an hour, mewing triumphantly and gnawing on grass. Even a half-opened can of food couldn’t entice her to return to the comfort of central air conditioning.
Finally, head in hands, I sat down with a book to wait, thinking she would come in once she had had a decent romp. Sure enough, she appeared at the sliding door, and slipped in when I opened it.
She then proceeded to barf up two leaves before retiring to the living room floor, where she glared at me, as if the whole ordeal had been my fault.