Vitamin D Therapy

Maybe it is too many days of leaving at dawn, coming home in the dark and spending the interim under fluorescent lighting.  Today I'm sick with a sinus infection and not up to the commute.  But still working.  After several hours plopped in a recliner clacking away on my laptop PC, the malady is wearing on me.  My eyes are tired.  I need a change.  Instinctively, I meander out the back door, find one of our old patio chairs with the floppy, weather-beaten cushions and arrange it to take advantage of the winter sun.  I nestle into the chair, lay my head back and soon feel the heat penetrate pants, shirt and skin down to my bones, seemingly.  My eyes are closed.  I'm near dozing.  Then, I feel something brush my shins and know what is going to happen next.  First one paw, then another, then the weight of a cat gingerly nestles onto my lap.  I peek down to confirm my suspicions.  It is Robby, short for Robert Malcolm, one of three cats who live with us.  Born with only a stub for a tail, I have long sworn that part of his brain is missing as well.  For his first year, Robby had bladder control issues.  In the house.  We banished him to the outdoors and garage.  He drinks by dipping his paw into the water dish and licking it off.  He doesn't get that I am not the cat lover my daughters are.  I desperately hoped a local coyote would find him and reduce our cat food requirements.  Somehow, he survived and grew out of his 'problem'. So, here he is, curled up on my lap while I let the sun bake the germs out of my body.   Robby cannot explain, nor can I, the odd camaraderie we share sitting there, a middle-aged man and a middle-aged cat soaking in sunlight.  I give him a scratch or two under chin and behind ears, then return to my thoughtless reverie.  Sometime later, Robby climbs down, hinting that he and I both have had enough sunshine and need to find some shade.