One week ago today, Nora turned four. (It's been almost four years since her namesake. Too weird.) Last night was the first time she'd slept through the night since moving to Pennsyltucky. I know: you think we would've locked this down awhile ago, but you know things are bad when you wake up thinking, "That can't be the alarm. Nora hasn't used the bed as a racetrack yet."
She still refuses to go outside and spends her days sleeping, scratching furniture, and eating rubber bands. Bert says she's getting fat. I'd like to think it's still just her winter fuzz. Hopefully, she'll have some space to roam once we move to our new digs.
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