We’re together three years now. Our relationship has undergone adjustments. I watched him develop and mature and grow to be even more handsome and loving.
I remember the first time Nicky sauntered into my life. It was early evening. He walked in slowly, tentatively. At first I didn’t think he noticed me. He is breathtaking. I keep watching him. He sneaks glances my way but never moves toward me. I watched him for a while and then I watched him wander away.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I didn’t want to think about him. It was way too soon. George had only been gone a few months and my heart was still tender. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t know if I could go through that again. But I wanted to see this enticing guy again. I started hanging out looking for him. Sometimes he would show up and sometimes he wouldn’t. Each time I saw him, he seemed a little friendlier. After a couple of weeks, I decided he was shy and I would have to take the initiative. I discovered that he was just as apprehensive. After three more weeks, we moved in together.
I enjoy reading before going to sleep. Nicky lies down with me and cuddles while I read. That I like. But he can be pushy at the most inopportune times. He has one routine that makes me crazy but I live with it. He’s worth it.
“Nicky, stop it. It’s three in the morning,” I moan as he slowly climbs on top of me. “I have to get up in two hours. You can sleep all day.”
He pushes my hand. When that doesn’t work, he nuzzles my neck. He moves up to kiss my eyelids, the tip of my nose, then my cheek. He won’t take no for an answer.
He is so absorbed in his own wants a drop of spittle cascades and lands on my chest. He’s oblivious and keeps rocking slow and steady.
Finally, when I don’t respond, he loses patience. Smack! “Ow,” I mumble in a groggy voice. “That’s enough, stop it!” I manage to turn on my side, forcing him off me.
He sits next to me with a heartrending, bewildered look of rejection. Each time it’s the same thing. He pouts, I pity. “Oh, all right, come over here,” I mutter as I reach out for him.
He lies on top of me once again. This time he just purrs and catnaps like the beautiful cat he is.
LIVING WITH MY ANCESTORS 
I love to visit blogs like these, keep up the good work. (i’m in Florida doing my research as well)
Thank you for visiting and sharing those kind words. Aren’t we glad we’re in Florida?!! 😉
After 42 years, I’m beginning to forget what a mountain looks like, but at my age now I could never shovel the driveway the way I used to.
Nicky looks like our Becky. Unfortunately, Becky is an old girl now and insists on scratching her neck until it looks like our other cat, Daisy, has mauled her. I think that’s her plan so we’ll get rid of Daisy, who is young and lovely, the object of everyone’s affection. Becky has to wear a cone of shame to protect her neck from her own devious plot to get rid of Daisy. When Becky come on our bed to get love with that cone on, it’s like being seduced by Robokitty. Not a pretty site. Doesn’t feel very romantic either. Love, love your story. You could write for Harlequin for cats.
Aw, poor Becky. That cone of shame is just not right! Nicky is coming up on 10 years now. Maybe not all that old for a cat, but his diabetes is taking a toll on him. Thank you for that Harlequin comment — I got quite a laugh out of it! 😆