“Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.” -James Herriot

April 9th, 2015, 6pm

It was 5.6°C with overcast. The breeze was gentle.

Oh, she is sassy. She is indubitably my best friend; she is my companion.

After a long day of work or school, I stomp up the steps, open the door, and before I can drop the huge load that burdens my back, I scream, “Looooogggggggg, I’m home!” I stand still with the expectation that she will come galloping with a slobbered mouth like a dog. Instead, she waits for me to meet her halfway.

Most times I find her awakening from a cat nap. Other times, she is doing something mischievous—in which matter, I like to instigate for pure laughter.

By the end of the night, she joins me as I get ready for bed. We sit in the bathroom for about 15 minutes. I brush my teeth and she observes. As I climb into bed, I call out, “Come on loog, time for bed.” She comes when she pleases. Then, we sleep. Side by side.

In the morning, we stretch, get out of bed, and eat breakfast. Of course, she gets her cat milk upon request.

She is my cat, but she is so much more.

Christine said thanks.

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