I end most of my days reading a bit in bed before turning off the lights.
For seventeen years this ritual was hugely blessed by my cat Gilda. As soon I settled in, with book in hand, she would snuggle alongside the left side of my chest, and drape her paws and head across my upper arm. My arm would tighten in, and she would begin purring furiously.
I adored this.
Her departure for Florida last year left a huge hole in my late-night ritual. And my heart.
To fill this hole, a bit, I have been letting in Stevie, Fine, and Spot. None are, sigh, snuggle cats. Sigh. But each exhibits their own quirky behaviors.
Like with Spot…
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