My partaking in this morning's breakfast was a gesture.
The White One joined me as I rested. She has been kind me; kept me company and washed me. I now want to be alone.
Helena found me lying outside of our log cabin and gently placed me on a large towel. I suspect she feels better now; viewing me against the peach coloured fabric gives me an appearance of looking clean and fresh and the cushioning of the folds suggest that they comfort my distorted body.
The scent of the fabric conditioner initially overwhelmed the odour of faeces that clings to my fur. Not sure which is worse.
Romula
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