I like to think that he’s winking at me. Like we have a little secret between us, he and I. The little (big) fluffbomb has been molting lately, much like Wendy’s Lucy has been.
It amazes me that, even after nearly five years together, Matisse and I can still reach new milestones. For the last two weeks, he has insisted on sitting on my lap, whenever he’s not already in The Bowl.
It’s been wonderful and well, furry. Warm.
And sometimes? Slightly painful.
You see, when the Matisse is very very very very happy, he kneads at everything within reach, preferably something attached to the Rebecca, and uses all 900 miles of claw to maximum advantage.
Not my advantage, of course, but someone’s, I’m sure.
He continually surprises me with his emotional growth.
I’m lucky to have him. Very lucky. Scratches and all.
