Whose sunshine is it anyway? or, The Game of Cat and Turtle

This time of day, this time of year, there's not much actual usable baskable sunshine coming into the house.* The best of it pools on the kitchen floor, in among all the detritus that I tend to leave lying around there. Which would be fine, because neither cat nor turtle is shy of bulldozering through detritus to get at their necessary sun - but there's only sun enough for one. Barry will always cede to Mac, G'Kwan prefers to lurk in shadows and leave the sun to Dymphna.

So we get face-offs, between Mr Fluffy and the Tank:



"If I can't see you, you're not really there. La la la, I can't see you..."



"Chaz? A little help here...?"



"Okay, I'm out of here. It's nicer over there in the cool anyway."



"Ahhhh..."


*I am persuaded that whoever designed this place not only didn't keep cats and turtles, he or she also didn't cook. There is a westward-facing window above the kitchen sink, just exactly where the lowering sun will blast through to bedazzle any poor guy trying to stand at the stove and cook, just exactly when he needs to be there...