By her very affectionate nature, Izzie intrudes on my morning solitude. You see, Izzie is an early riser like me, so just as I get settled with my coffee in the Angel Room, she arrives. But not to meditate or just sit in the mystery, as she does later in the day while watching the birds at the feeder. No, she wanders around my lap, book and computer, determined that I rub her chin--fifteen minutes feels right to her. I’d say that she’s happy to hang out for a good hour, and there’s no simply way to send her on her way.
So here I am, being distracted by a cat as I try to prepare myself for the day’s distractions. What’s a grandmother to do?