This afternoon between 3:30 and 4:30 I had the most extraordinary, moving, and heartbreaking experience. It's taken Thatch four years to be really comfortable around me, but he's remained skittish and ready to run at any minute. After I fed the cats at 3:00, I lay down for a bit to let my legs stop aching. I was lying on my back with a pillow at my knees, and Thatch jumped onto my bed, went to the foot to check out Annabelle, who lay buried in the kitty quilt, turned back to me, and walked up my legs to my chest, where he lay down, facing me. I petted him, tickled him under his chin, and he lay there for maybe fifteen minutes. Then he sat up, groomed himself and walked away.
Maybe ten minutes later he returned and settled on my chest/ Then, licking my fingers, he stretched out on his side, using the crook of my right arm to prevent his falling off me and the bed. He extended his front paws up to my chin and brushed my face and seemed bery content to lie there as long as I would let him. I started to worry that his heart was giving out and that he was going to die in my arms, and, as this enormous painful bulge of emotion filled my chest till I feared my heart would explode, I gently rocked him and wept. There was so much love.
