Truman and I are sitting on the balcony on a warm summer evening in Chicago. Truman has adapted to his harness. He waits until I put it on and then he walks around like he’s carrying the weight of the world. When he’s ready to go in he jumps up on the patio furniture near the door, goes through once I open up the door for him, and wait for me to take off his harness. Then he goes racing around the condo like a maniac.
Right now he is situated next to me, relaxing, purring, and chasing bugs from his vantage point on the patio couch. Or is it a patio Davenport? Occasionally he spots a seagull passing high overhead, probably one that has strayed a little ways from near by Lake Michigan. Then he gets back to looking for bugs.
There is a sort of contentment in sitting and relaxing with a well behaved feline purring at your side. I think he knows just as well as I do that tomorrow is Friday.
We’re both looking forward to the weekend.
