I Love My Cat

I love my cat. Her name is Mismatch. That's because if you look at her straight on, one front leg is black and gray stipes, the other is orange and white mottled.

There are three things about her that I find particularly endearing.

One is, when I'm sitting up she'll jump into my lap, put her chest on mine, reach out with her arms to gently place one paw on each side of my face, and put her little pink nose just an inch or so from the end of mine. Then she just stares into my eyes. It's sort of like a feline mind meld.

The second is when I'm lying down with my face turned to the side, if she has the opportunity she will settle in close, stretch out her neck and put her chin over my cheek so that her throat is resting right on my ear, and then she purrs. It's like a soft, audible massage. Mmmm...

The third thing is, because I am actually allergic to cats, she can't sleep with us. But once I'm out of bed in the morning, if the bedroom door is left open she'll rush in and curl up in the very spot that I have left. She looks so comfy, that I don't want to disturb her, so... the bed doesn't get made. I check in now and then to see if she's decided to exit the forbidden zone and, if so, I then make the bed.

Almost always. Sometimes I forget. But when I go to climb in that night, I forgive myself. I figure there are worse things in life than an unmade bed.

Which reminds me. Tip to parents: Take a picture of your teenagers' rooms when they are at their worst, and save it to show to their children once they hit their own teen years. Your kids won't like it, but your grandkids will love you for it. ;-)