Wendell is a klutz. He is perhaps the most awkward animal I've ever seen. He moves in a way that makes me seem graceful. I'm not graceful, I'm a klutz as well. Together we knock over more lamps than I care to share.
So it was with terror and hilarity that I watched Wendell's antics this morning. He was lying on the bed, stretched out in his wonderful morning laziness, when he looked up at me and rolled over to have me rub his belly. He miscalculated and went flying to the floor on his back, paws desperately trying to grip something. My feelings went through how cute it was to very quickly realizing that he might be hurt. I ran over to his side, and saw the glint in his eye, the one I get so very often when I trip over my feet. Wendell looked embarrassed, a rare sight for a cat.
Of course, just like his daddy, he picked himself up and strutted out of the room as if that was what he wanted to do all along. They grow up so fast.
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