Northport, Alabama

The ad was simple.

Wanted: Warm body to mold itself to mine in the middle of the night. Must provide warm kisses, soft caresses, gentle nibbles, and the occasional contract murder (preference given to arachnid eradication specialists). Clingy types okay, but please — keep the drooling in check. In exchange, I will provide full body massages, gourmet meals, 300 percale Egyptian cotton bed linens, and the occasional hallucinogenic drugs for exemplary behavior and random bedtime fun.

I had my doubts when we met. The constant wheezing turned me off, and he was young. Very young. I was busy and didn’t have time to train a sniveling enfant terrible. The short red hair hinted at some random ancestry. And the voice — ghastly — an incessant, high-pitched screech.

He knew he had a long way to go in order to win my heart, and he set about his business quickly, throwing himself at my feet at random moments in slavish devotion — his own unique interpretation of making me fall head over heels. But his most charming asset was his sheer desire to be wherever I was. Not just near me, but all over me. Constantly. I’d never had that before, and I liked. A lot. With careful precision, he would align himself to the curves of my body, dissolving into my flesh with a contented sigh. Aching shoulders gave way to warm, gentle kneading. Cold feet sought his body heat instinctively, knowing he would never recoil.

Eventually, I had to admit that I had stopped looking for anyone else. The ad languished and was quietly pulled one day. The eager boy had been replaced with a fine, strapping young man, inured to my quirks and attentive to my desires.

The arrangement suited everyone. I got eighteen pounds of pure love. And he got one smitten girl, wrapped around a velvet paw.

Posted on March 26, 2006 by Carmen K. Sisson tagged Alabama, cats, Northport, writing