I'm not sure what was going on this morning with the alignment of the stars (and the alignment of the pets), but things were not going well. My heater broke, which, since it has been on its last leg for about three months, was not a surprise. My pets, for some reason, all managed to end up underneath my feet at some point before 9:30 a.m. This is not a surprise either, because I'm convinced that, emotionally, the cats, at least, are torn between showing me love by winding between my feet, and trying to trip me for kicks and giggles by winding between my feet. I have not as of yet, in my 13 years with them, figured out whether they love me or just care because they want me to feed them. The dog, though, does not usually end up under my feet, mostly because he is the dog equivalent of 150 years old or so and spends most of his time sleeping on the couch. This morning, however, he smelled that I was making food for the cats, he liked the smell, and he decided he clearly neede