Member-only story
MY GINGER CAT
My Boy, My Boy, My Boy
Talkin ‘bout my boy (apologies to the Temptations song My Girl, 1965)
Who wouldn’t love a big ginger cat who gently rakes his claws across my face in the middle of the night?
My startled eyes meet his as he peers down at me with relief. You’re alive! He then carefully wraps his body around my head, his front paws resting on my nose, and cranks up the volume of his purring and drooling.
My boy has been my constant companion for twelve years, arriving in my life as a scared, skinny, tick-infested stray one rainy spring morning.
To show his devotion, the big guy sleeps on my feet when I sit, pressing against my body while I read, and follows me around the house like a small dog. He’s a talker, greeting me with meows, pushing his head into whatever part of my body he can reach, and loudly purring as soon as he feels my hand touching his silky fur. Unlike most cats, Buffy flops over for belly rubs.
He ignores our other four cats unless they want my attention. If he sees me providing chin or belly rubs to any of them, his eyes glow with jealousy, his ears flatten, and he leaves the room.
