Yesterday I didn't get a chance to post about feeding but everyone ate without too much issue. Tybalt was being a bit reluctant, I could practically see his little head working away, wondering if he felt like eating a frozen/thawed pinkie or waiting until Wednesday for a live one. After much convincing on my part (which means I kept rubbing the mouse under his nose) he deigned to open his mouth a bit. Not strike, no, that's too much effort for a subpar meal. I was happy, though. Maybe I can get him back on the frozen mice. Here's hoping.
That's Topkapi, of course, inspecting my table, checking out the vanilla scented candlewax and the feather quill. Perhaps she has an important missive to write. Maybe to a lover on a distant shore somewhere. Very possible with her.
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