Unadulterated Adoration

           My cat adores me.

            I know it first thing in the morning when she meows and taps my shoulder, ready for me to get up.  I know it when I sit down in my recliner and she leaps up to come between me and my laptop.  I know it at bedtime when she parks herself between me and my book and starts licking my chin with her sandpaper tongue.  And I know it in the middle of the night when I turn over and she clambers back on my side, purring loudly.

            Melody purrs in anticipation of being petted.  She purrs for attention.  She throws herself at me whenever I pick up her grooming brush and purrs some more.  She regards me with those yellow-green, adoring eyes.

            Sometimes all that unsought attention drives me crazy.  Sometimes I love it.  The rest of the time I make liberal use of the lint roller to swipe away the remnants of her attention (fur, fur, and more fur).

            Back in September at the animal shelter, Melody chose me to be her human.  I am her chief of staff.  I attend to her needs for food, water, grooming, playtime, and attention.  She is careful to make sure I never forget her for a moment.

            I guess that is the price for unadulterated adoration.