Harley is like 16 years old. He hates life. He has been around for the raising of 4 generations of children. And did I mention he hates life. He is my parents cat, but since my mom got ill, and he is a bit needy there were two options 1. Take him to the “farm” or 2. I would take him in. Well obviously I took him. Most of the time I do not even remember I have a cat. He is that chill. He just comes out of the laundry room to be fed honestly.
This morning I was doing my yoga and here comes this used to be orange cat, weaving in and out of my extended limbs, putting his tail in my face, and rubbing his body all over me and I just had to get a picture. He flopped down shortly after this and demanded a little belly rub action. Of which I had to oblige. These are the Sunday mornings I live for. Lazy, leisurely and filled with the sort of quiet stillness that I need to rehydrate my mind and prepare me for the week. 
killrcupcake 