Yesterday evening, after I got home from filing in a few hours at work for a buddy, Jason warmed up the shrimp Kung Pao and I propped my swollen knee (cold and rainy weather moving in) up on the coffee table and sipped a lovely Sonoma Valley Zinfandel from Kunde Estate (well, perhaps gulped would be more appropriate for the first half glass). I had broken my own rule and paid $13 for the bottle and thought it about on par with some I'd found for under ten.

As I reposed, a thundering of kitten paws could be heard heading down the hall towards the den. Imagine my surprise when none other than Sutu the Supposed Kidney Failure Possible Thyroid Condition Grumpy Old Man Scaredey Cat came loping through the kitchen with Thor hot on his heels. Sutu hopped up on the couch, looked at me, then hopped down to lead Thor on a chase around the cat tree, under a chair and then stretched out on "his" window seat and began licking a paw. "Didn't think I still had it in me," was evident in every very carefully posed movement.

Dare I hope that, other than his very obvious mental problems, that there is nothing really wrong with him? That whatever this has been was perhaps a passing illness? He is eating well, without seeming absolutely ravenous as he did before. His coat looks better. He seems to be gaining a bit of weight (but he has always been rail thin, my son nicknamed him "Slats" many years ago). And now he is frolicking with kittens.

It makes me happy. Perhaps I will find three furbags pinned under the fallen over Christmas tree this year.