Dad and Petey

So.........remember all that hub-bub about Dad wanting a puppy? You know, so he could have a pet that was bonded just to him? Over the last six months or so, the puppy/dog issue has quieted, in part because of the two cats that I brought over from my old house in Port Townsend--Peter and Rufus. In a very small nutshell, Peter and Rufus are big, fluffy, vapid felines. Not much personality in either one, nevertheless they are beautiful specimens as far as cats go and Dad has really taken to them. Especially Peter.

The morning ritual Dad used to have with Zeus, (his beloved german shepard who we put down a couple of years ago) in which Dad would lie on his bed just before getting dressed, right next to his canine best friend, and pet his ears while whispering, "Are you a good boy Zeusy? I think you're a good boy Zeusy" over and over again, has been replaced. Now, Peter jumps up on Dad's bed at precisely the same time every morning (9am), meows in his delicate choir-cat falsetto, while Dad strokes him and says over and over again, "meow-meow Petey? Is that the meow-meow Petey?" (yes that is a direct quote)

But the best part happened this morning, just now, when Dad wheeled into my office to say good morning, and I turned around to see this: