Today I spent about eight hours cuddling Little Fish, with her curled into my lap and my arms around her in a manner designed for her comfort and not my own. Very nice, but very unusual - I can't help wondering what's up.
We did break for fresh air; after an hour of pleading to go shopping (pre-huggles) we wrapped up and headed out of the door. and by the time we had reached the bottom of the drive, Little Fish was crying and begging to go back inside again. But refusing to turn around, adamant that we needed more ham and chocolate spread. So she cried her way around the shops, cried her way home, insisted she didn't want any kind of lunch at all and then equally insistent she wanted to eat mine. And then we sat and cuddled.
And cuddled, and cuddled, and huggled and snuggled and cuddled. And Mog looked on a little, and mostly slept, and occasionally coughed. And we watched DVDs and snuggled some more, had some weeps at bedtime and then into bed with a happy sigh and asleep before I had closed the door.
Not coughing, not hot, not visibly lurgied, not complaining of feeling poorly or tired. SHalfway back from the shops she told me she was very sad, but couldn't say why.
I hope tomorrow's happier.