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I worked late last night.  I hope I don't have to work too late tonight.

I had a dream this morning that I had a cat that looked just like Henry, only she was smaller, I could hold her to my side with one hand.  But she didn't look like a kitten, she wasn't all skinny and long-legged, just a very very tiny cat.  She walked next to me like a dog, and if she ran away to explore, she would always come galloping back to me when I called.  And she never bit or scratched.  I decided to give her a nice Vulcan name like T'Pring or T'Pol (only one that I made up myself) but I never got around to it before the dream ended.

I was back at Rutgers, for the first day of the semester.  I arrived at my on-campus apartment, and my two roommates were there.  One was A'ysha', my (in real life) freshman year roommate, and the other was a quiet homely Asian girl.  They were surprised that I had this tinyster cat instead of Henry, I guess I had lived with them the year before with Hank, but I could tell they were relieved that I was accompanied by a non-violent cat instead.  It felt good to be back at school again.  I was very good at college.  Good at class, good at hanging out.  I napped almost every day, and I lived with best friends for roommates (this is real life that I'm talking about here), and I was smart.  I'm not as good at this work thing. 

So anyway, in the dream the Asian girl said that she was starting some sort of club or organization or whatever, and it was going to involve Star Trek, and I was seriously considering joining it (nerd alert!).  And then I made to gather up T'Pring and take her with me as I left my apartment to go find Michelle or some of my other real friends, and as I knelt down, the cat made to swipe at me.  Man!  I can't even raise magical tiny cats to not scratch in my dreams.  I'm such a bad mom.

Henry scratched at me last night on the couch and got the top of my toe.  I don't think I've ever been scratched there before.  Later, though, when we were sitting and watching TNG, I realized that I do fuck with him sometimes.  He apparently doesn't like to have his feet held, but I kept grabbing his feet last night.  The pads are so soft and smooth and warm! Maybe if I would stop messing with him, he wouldn't react to EVERYTHING as an attack.

Ehh, or maybe not.  He's getting mellower, slowly but surely.  It's fun to grab cat feet.

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