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  • I have one perfect moment every night.

    She is already burrowed under the blankets, exactly in the middle of the bed, right in my spot. I turn on my reading light, turn off the lamp, kneel on the floor, and slowly slide my hands under the covers until I feel her hot furry body. I'm careful not to open the covers too much, I don't want to wake her yet, but a little draft of her scent drifts past my nose. Musky, sweet, bitter -- the smell of love. She stretches and rolls onto her back, feet sticking up, to provide access to the all-important belly-rub she knows is coming. Around and around, up her chest I feel my fingers wrap around her tiny ribs, back down to the belly, around and around. One little squirm and she flips over, snorts her way to the edge of the covers, and folds the top back with a flick of her nose. I'm engulfed in her smell. I grab her and press my face to her belly and little feet, inhaling for all I'm worth. She wiggles and moans until she gets her tongue on my face. Keeping my lips firmly pressed together, I submit to my bath, still smelling her. When she's ready she dances to the side so I can slide into bed and lift the top of the blankets for her to dive under. She curls up between my knees, drapes her neck across my ankle exactly where it cuts the circulation to my foot off, and turns up the heat. I lift the edge of the blanket. Inhale. Drift. Lift. Inhale. Drift away.
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