Shadow mrrs at the scritching, leaning into it, his eyes closing as he kneads a little at Chip's chest- not driving his claws into the bedclothes terribly much (wouldn't do to claw Chip!), but enough to allow him to shift 'em around some. He turns his head to taste the inside of Chip's wrist with his ticklishly rough tongue.
Shadow streeetches lazily, rolling onto one side, and looking up at Chip. One paw stretches out and pats Chip on the chin, then the cat starts to get up. Slowly, in case there's more of that stroking that he'd be forfeiting if he actually did get up.
Comments 86
"Is that where you got off to, Little man? Dale took you with?'
Moving slow, raising a hand to scritch at the cat's head.
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