I dreamed this morning that I pulled out the sleeping bags we took on our camping trip to Pennsylvania last summer, and inside I saw something moving that looked like a little stuffed animal. I unrolled the sleeping bag and found three cats: a full-grown cat, a kitten approximately Nix’s age, and a tiny, tiny kitten about the size of a mouse, with black paws and gingery fur.
“More cats!” I said. “And a tiny foxy cat!”
Evidently my mind was either (a) remembering our return from Pennsylvania to discover Scarlet’s temporary feline boarder giving birth to kittens, or (b) afraid that I haven’t cleaned out my camping gear correctly. Or both.
I haven’t been sleeping well. Maybe that’s all it is.