New Beginnings
I am roused from sleep by a deep rumbling. An inquisitive and very cold nose pokes the crannies of my face, “Are you awake?” it purrs. Poke, poke. I am now.
“Hi Hooter. How’s my boy?” I mumble, reaching out to stroke the soft black fur and to gently remove a probing paw from my ear.
He has the good sense to keep his claws retracted. Hooter stands on my pillow, maneuvering as close to my face as possible. Flop. Utter, inner-cave darkness descends as the full weight of his body plops across my face. Fur fills my mouth and I feel the itchiness creeping into my eyes. My allergist would not be happy with this situation but we are not going to tell him, are we? Suffocation not being an option, I slip out from under Hooter's snuggling body and slide another pillow under my head.
Undaunted, he squirms close again and begins a contented washing ritual, stretching his legs into my eyes as he lifts and cleans each one. He flicks his thin long tail across my mouth in rhythm to the movement of his tongue. Determined to sleep, I close my eyes and try to drift off. It’s 3:00am.
A sandpaper tongue caresses my forehead and then my eyelids. A wet nose pushes against my cheek. I grudgingly open one eye, and I’m greeted with an enthusiastic “MuurRow” and the full-on stare of Hooter’s huge yellow eyes.
He’s such a wonderful boy, and he’s so happy to have finally found his forever home, how can I fault him for showing his affection, even if he’s not chosen the most auspicious time of day to slather me with cat love. I reach out and stroke him and he settles down, clean and content. The deep purring resumes. It finally lulls me back to sleep. I, who cannot sleep, find the sound of cat purrs deeply relaxing. As I drift off I wonder just who has rescued who.
“Hi Hooter. How’s my boy?” I mumble, reaching out to stroke the soft black fur and to gently remove a probing paw from my ear.
He has the good sense to keep his claws retracted. Hooter stands on my pillow, maneuvering as close to my face as possible. Flop. Utter, inner-cave darkness descends as the full weight of his body plops across my face. Fur fills my mouth and I feel the itchiness creeping into my eyes. My allergist would not be happy with this situation but we are not going to tell him, are we? Suffocation not being an option, I slip out from under Hooter's snuggling body and slide another pillow under my head.
Undaunted, he squirms close again and begins a contented washing ritual, stretching his legs into my eyes as he lifts and cleans each one. He flicks his thin long tail across my mouth in rhythm to the movement of his tongue. Determined to sleep, I close my eyes and try to drift off. It’s 3:00am.
A sandpaper tongue caresses my forehead and then my eyelids. A wet nose pushes against my cheek. I grudgingly open one eye, and I’m greeted with an enthusiastic “MuurRow” and the full-on stare of Hooter’s huge yellow eyes.
He’s such a wonderful boy, and he’s so happy to have finally found his forever home, how can I fault him for showing his affection, even if he’s not chosen the most auspicious time of day to slather me with cat love. I reach out and stroke him and he settles down, clean and content. The deep purring resumes. It finally lulls me back to sleep. I, who cannot sleep, find the sound of cat purrs deeply relaxing. As I drift off I wonder just who has rescued who.