It’s me. I know; it must be me.
Perhaps my breath is bad?
Or maybe it’s my pants? Yes, my pants are not soft enough.
How else can I explain what happened the other day?
Curling up on the sofa to watch a movie, I found myself alone; hubby and the kids were not interested in joining.
That’s OK. Pettigrew and I have a long history of snuggling. He’s my best pal.
The feel of his head, warm and heavy, resting on my thigh.
His fur, silky smooth as I rub behind his ears, scratch his neck. Or its coarseness as I ruffle it so it stands up, and then smooth it down again.
Settled on the sofa, I hit play on the movie my son queued up–the only way to ensure an aggravation-free experience–and waited.
Partway through the opening credits, Pettigrew bounded gracefully onto the cushions. He tucked up against the armrest. At the opposite…end…of the sofa!
At first I didn’t appreciate what had happened.
Then I stroked his tail and got his attention. We exchanged a long, measured glance.
I held out my hand. He eyed it. Stood up, reoriented his body and curled up beside me.
My fingers went to work in his fur. His head rested heavily on my thigh. Ah, everything I wanted.
After about one half hour he got up, reoriented again, and went back to the other end of the sofa.
I was spurned by the one member of my family from whom I had come to expect unconditional love.
As I pondered my fate, Pettigrew settled down for a nap, and the movie rolled on.
I guess Pettigrew needs “me time” too.
By the way, today is the anniversary of Pettigrew’s adoption day. Happy Adoption Day Pettigrew!!! To see how we’ve celebrated in the past, check out Happy Adoption Day Pettigrew!