Moth may look, here, perched on the end of the bed, as though butter wouldn't remotely melt in her pretty pink mouth - but that might have been the first time that she truly settled after about 10 p.m. Grams was much better behaved. I decamped to the sofa, and distracted her meowing self with little strokes from time to time (as in: every ten minutes or so, or that's what it felt like). Maybe it was the trains, maybe the dogs, maybe it was - and I suspect this - that she was super-rested from having been snoozing in the car all day.
As a result (and after La Posada had redeemed its culinary self with an excellent breakfast), the 335 miles between Winslow and Eldorado seemed very, very long indeed.
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