Sly Beasts
At night, I like to read or watch TV/stream something or just waste time generally in bed, two pillows propped up behind me, a book or my iPad propped up in front of me. Ariel, my furry friend, likes to snuggle up right along my left hip — he seems always to fashion a little blanket nest into which — shockingly! — he fits as perfectly as a dollop of butter on a hot waffle.
He has a maneuver, of which he seems very proud — and should be, as it’s thus far enjoyed a near 100% success rate — according to which he’ll slightly and slowly turn his head to his left, so that no matter what I’m doing, I can absentmindedly scratch his chin and right cheek with my left hand. (If it wasn’t obvious, I’m right-handed.) Then, he’ll spring his trap, start purring and look at me with languorous bedtime eyes. As he starts to bring his head down, he’ll extend his right arm over my left forearm, so that his impossibly cute paw curls around my outer forearm, and is therefore no longer accessible to me. At this point, he’s won. I can either try to free my left forearm and risk waking the dreamer or just — as is usually the case — submit to being a kept man.
I’m okay with that, Ari.
Destructive Anachronism 