YUM
I finally caught up with Melissa last night over dinner and we went and had Mediterranean food at Skewers in Dupont. We both ordered their salads, and I had a lamb in mine along with grapes and feta and it was painfully delicious, y'all. It's what I was thinking about when I woke up this morning as well. I know, it's pathetic how much I love the food, but what can I say? I love it. Anyway, it's been at least a couple of months since I was able to hang out with Ms. Melissa, so it was great to spend time with her over the good food and pleasing Skewers decor.

Already Missing Spike
I went home and took more pictures of Spike with my digital camera. It's turning into a problem--all I want to do is photograph him. I'm already fearing the future withdrawal from this obstinate feline. He's such a good companion in laziness and I like chatting with him in the morning after Matt's left and the apartment is empty.

We have a morning routine: he comes in my room and meows loudly and raucously, I say: "SPIKE! What are you doing?!" in mock anger and he looks back at me and open and closes his mouth (a la a cud-chewing cow) in that way he does when he's contented. I then go over to him and cover his head with kisses before we both get up and go to the bathroom--me to do my morning ablutions and he to haul himself on top of the bathroom sink to hang around the faucet. Sometimes I need to lift him up there since he has trouble moving his weight to that level. Out of the shower I come and then dribble him with droplets that he tries to catch like he's been parched for years and then we both head to the kitchen where I make coffee and breakfast and he squats outside to eat his food. It's very comforting to both of us.

I think back to two years ago when I moved in and Spike was wary of me to say the least. He was sit outside my room and stare in with wide, alarmed eyes, wondering what in the hell this person was doing and when was she going to get out of his house. At that time, he didn't like if anyone beside Matt even touched him, but now through my sheer will, I've made him become somewhat of a cuddle monster. I scoop him up like a twenty pound bag of flour and sit with him on the couch, him locked in my arms while I nuzzle and coo at him. He purrs! And doesn't bite for at least five minutes! This is real progress, people.

Anyway, this is all to say that I will be inconsolable when I realize that Spike is not a regular part of my life anymore.