Every morning, Without fail. Come rain or come shine.
My faithful friend comes to greet me.
He slinks up from the bottom of the bed.
A beeline direct to my face.
Even though he is getting on in years,
This approach is always full of a youthful exhurbance. His enthusiasm as if I had been gone for days.
Before he even gets to me I can hear his loud and joy full purr.
At first he stands, butting his rather large head against mine. He tries to nibble my ear. This makes me squeal. I do not like this sweet gentle gesture. I am not sure why.
Then he plonks himself down, a front leg against each side of my head. Gentle, but still uncomfortable, kneading of his paws, with claws. Loud purrs. They resonate as his heart and my heart connect. He still tries to nibble my ears. I love him so much. I tell him.
I call these cuddles my purr therapy. It's a very special moment. As we both age I am aware that this purrefct moment might be the last session we share. So they are very precious.
Sometimes, there is a call response echo in my ears to these loud sounds emitting from the cat. I wonder if he is singing to the parasites that he passed onto me. If I am just a storage for the mites that he uses to catch mice.