Feb. 9, 2009 Monday

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Dorie keeps me company every morning while I get ready for work. She sits outside the bathroom door until I come out, then she hides in my closet and bats at me whenever I go to retrieve an article of clothing. Or sometimes she'll just sit on the windowsill and meow at me. It's a great way to start the day. Of course I need an arsenal of those sticky lint rollers, because my pantlegs are invariably covered in a soft layer of white cat fur before I can get out the front door. But we continue our conversation with each other as I roll away the offending hairs, and I leave for work with a smile on my face.

But when I return home, the Husband has commandeered the cat therapy. One of them is usually curled up on his lap while he watches tv and the other naps nearby. Then, one day last week, I returned home and joined the Husband watching tv while Hunky was stretched out across his legs, and Dorie was curled up on the floor by the tv. I tried calling Dorie, but she completely ignored me. Except for her ears, which turned briefly in the direction of my pleas.

Much to my surprise, Hunky got up off the Husband's lap and came over and curled up next to me and began purring. I was amazed. I stared at the Husband, as if seeking an answer to this behavior. He had none, of course. I stroked Hunky's head and he continued purring. He stayed there for the rest of the evening.

Cats are great therapy.