Beautiful day in Hotlanta. Daylight’s reach is extending and the mercury is rising. Front door ajar, sofa lounging as the evening falls. But, soft? What light through yonder window breaks? A shadow, slinking towards the glass door ajar, movement tripping the front porch motion light and drawing my eye from MacBook luminosity.
He’s short, dark, and handsome. A svelte black cat with a broad chest. Skittish as I opened the door, but two blown kisses and a low “mmm kiiiiiiirrrra?” found him stealing back. He was looking for love, and he picked the right door. His reward found: a scratch fest with heavy petting.
Cats that like – nay, DEMAND – furious love warms this feline fan in a furry glow. Our tryst successfully avoided detection by the abode’s resident cuddle muffins that wouldn’t appreciate his audacious assumption of Cheek’s person. Our brief first date didn’t afford pictorial capture, but something tells me he’ll be back.
I wasn’t expecting a new suitor on this, the last day of Cupid’s month. But if you keep your door open, serendipity can strike. That’s why I say, hey man, nice scratch. Nice scratch, man.