I’ve slept with dogs before but not so much cats. Lestat, my second dog, a Doberman mix who was born under a car, the runt of the liter, would nudge me when I was in bed. I’d lift the blanket and he’d crawl under. By the time I woke up he’d have pushed me to the edge of the bed.
Frieda, though bigger than Lestat, knew how to make herself small. Never cold with her thick Shepard coat, she’d curl up at the bottom of the bed and I hardly knew she was there.
All my cats have always lived outside. Wild things not the type to snuggle and cuddle. Until Minnie and now Flo started coming in the house. It’s been a few years now but I only just realized how much nicer it is to nap with a cat.
Our cats don’t go upstairs into the bedroom, but if I lay down in the living room one of them and somethings both of them, find a place next to me. They wind themselves into a perfect oval filling the negative spaces my body creates on the couch.
Knowing they’re there, just feeling the warmth and pressure is enough. But then they purr. The sound and vibration like a rocking lullaby. And when they settle in, they’re there for good. Even now as I write this I can feel the sound of their purring tickling my heart.
I’ve heard that closest relative to the domestic cat is the tiger. And what’s safer than a sleeping tiger.