As I walked down the hall to my bathroom and the two sleeping tails perked up, yawning, stretching, ever so slowly, followed me into the bathroom it suddenly dawned on me. My cats are the only 'people' who love me unconditionally. Allow me to explain.
Post-dinner I go to the bathroom what? 4-5 times a night? Irregardless of which bathroom I choose, there's always a cat that accompanies me there. Furthermore, I -know- that before I slam the door shut I have to let it linger for an extra split second so that a fuzzy tail doesn't getting accidentally caught between the wooden frame and the hunk of wood that keeps the rest of the world out of my intimate experience. It's like second nature to me... and as the door shuts and one of my three babies nuzzles my leg with his warm body, I feel loved. It's just the way it is.
It's also like how last night as I cried myself to sleep, snuggled against my pillows acting as replacements for the loneliness of a single person in a twin bed... Lucky rested his head on my pillow next to my own and put his paw on my shoulder. I'm sure it was accidental, too perfectly staged for me to even claim that it was like poetic redemption. But it's in moments like that that I feel loved, that some higher power knows I need comfort, someone to love me irregardless of my flaws, my faults and my erratic behavior.
It's in the way Oliver guards my door when I'm doing homework, and in the way Lucky jumps on my lap while I'm watching TV or in the way J.C. nonchalantly caresses my leg while I'm on my laptop in an attempt to distract me from my screen and force me to pay attention to his itchy ears. Oliver just KNOWS that when I watch TV in the den and he sits behind my head on the couch, I'll instinctively pet him for the 3.5 minute commercial break - I dont even need to check if he's there, I raise my hand and I'm instantly met with the redness of his fur. It's the same way when mid-slumber I accidentally ram my leg into the middle of J.C.'s back while he so peacefully sleeps and he knows that it wasn't out of malice so he jumps off my bed and waits for me to get comfortable and fall back asleep before he jumps back on the bed and leaves me with ample room to thrash about. It's the same way Lucky watches me get into bed and immediately snuggles in next to my shoulder after I've doubled the pillows behind my head, leaving a corner for him to sleep.
We just work. We adjust to each other's presences without even acknowledging each other's presences. We love each other regardless of the stress of the day, the attitudal moodiness and the irritability we've shown others. These are my three boys. The boys who love me unconditionally, without hesitation. So big deal if I become the crazy cat lady, at least I'm loved.
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