The cat got me up this morning. She sits very carefully on the bedside table and delicately prods me with he paw (no claws) until I wake up.
This means she wants to go out, or be fed. (We don’t have a cat flap).
It’s 07:30; a bit early for a Sunday, but she’s looking at me very politely, how can I refuse? I stumble up, dressing gown on, my wife turns vaguely, I mumble “cat” and she turns over and goes back to sleep.
I wander into the conservatory and watch her inspect the garden. It’s always been her garden, she wanders every part of it, climbs the big apple tree, lounges under every bush.
Then I look up. It’s been raining, but its clearing now and the sky is bisected by the weather front clearing to the south, one half grey, one half blue.