The love of a cat

When I was a little girl I loved cats. Whenever I went to my Dad and stepmom's house for the weekend, I'd hope against hope their cat would cuddle up under my covers with me at night. I loved when he jumped onto my bed with light paws, then purred up a storm as I pet and cuddled him. I even had a stuffed animal cat, that purred when I hugged it. I was in love.

It's no different now that I'm an adult, and have my kitty Lexi, who normally goes by "kitty". She's an angel when David is away for the week; it's just nice having another living being in my house. She sits on my lap, she rolls onto her back to expose her large, furry belly. She looks up at me with those big blue eyes, and meows. And I've found I can't sleep without her.

The first night David was gone, I laid in bed for two hours before I could fall asleep. Not only did I not have him beside me, but kitty was nowhere to be found. I tossed and turned, and finally she jumped up onto my bed, a purring ball of joy. She always settles up near my chest, where I hug her like she's a stuffed animal. Sometimes we lay like that all night long, and sometimes she turns on her back so I can have my hand on her belly.

Every morning when I wake up, I see kitty near me. She rolls on her back and stretches her two front paws toward me, sometimes touching my face. She meows and jumps out of bed, and walks down the stairs at my side. I'm so thankful for my little animal companion.