Black cat in the sun.

I went outside to inspect the results of a week’s worth of storms on the balcony. The cactus that the guys in my vet school class had given me when I was in the hospital is rotting from the base. I don’t know if it is storm related or if it was starting to happen before – what I had mistaken as fresh green and new growth on part of it may just have been the beginning of root rot. I feel saddened by it – I’ve had that for over four years now, after all. Still, the whole thing may not be dying. I’ll have to keep it dry and see if it can be salvaged.

While I was outside, the Professor’s cat slipped out onto the balcony behind me and started rolling in a patch of sunlight. Her pleasure in being outside in the sun was obvious. I grabbed a comb while she was basking and took three comb-fulls of thin downy hair out of her coat. She rolled and even gave me her belly to comb. I was sure was just a trick to give her an excuse to attack me, but turned out to be in pure innocence. I don’t know when I’ve seen that cat more delighted with anything. When I reached down to pet her, she was almost too hot to touch. That black pelt of hers soaked up sunlight and converted it to heat quickly, and she couldn’t get enough of it. I left her stay with me outside for a while, hoping she’d settle down and snooze in the sun spot. Unfortunately, she got nosey and started poking around the plants. When she made motions to jump up on the railing, I called her in. I don’t want to have to explain to the Professor why his cat is a crater three floors down.