Any normal onlooker might have gotten the wrong idea, and quite reasonably, too, because my cat was no-doubt-about-it growling. Arrrrr.....arrrrr.......gggggrrrrrrr.......grrrrr. What they might have failed to notice, for a start, was that I was growling with her in unison. Arrrrr.....arrrrr.......gggggrrrrrrr.......grrrrr.
There I was lying tummy-down on the floor with my head resting on my old cat's side while she had my arm grappled with all four paws, claws jabbing into my flesh, as she wrestled my hand up to her mouth, gnawing on my knuckles.
Doesn't sound too comfy, does it? Why would I be tolerating such a thing?
Contrary to any reasonable explanation, the fact of the matter is that we were being happy. Both of us. Happy. Daisy isn't (and never has been) a cute little ball of fluff. She's a tough girl. That's what I like about her. I chose Daisy because she's a horrible cat. Yeah, I wanted the cat that no one else could stand. Even though every day is a negotiation, even though I sometimes want to send her to the moon, I wouldn't trade her for a boring sweetie pie cat.
I don't know how she survived the dire illness that she endured this spring (if you've read before, you might recall that the situation was so severe that, on the night I knew that she could not recover and was about to die, I prayed with my whole heart and gave Daisy to God; God, in his infinite wisdom, gave her right back to me); I'm so grateful. And now my dreadful cat is behaving like her awful old self. That's just how I like her.
By the way, she was purring in between the growls and she never broke my skin with her claws or her teeth. The only time she hissed and made an angry meow was when I decided to lever myself off the floor because I had other things to go do. She wanted the dubious fun to continue! You know what, so did I.....maybe I'll go bother her again.
Life is good.
My cat is horrid.
.....while I was trying to finish editing this, my rotten animal decided to bother me instead and attempted to do her impersonation of a lap cat. Not very successful. She spent most of the time smacking me with her tail and poking my legs with her claws. But she was purring. And then she gave me the hardest kick she could manage with both back paws as she jumped down. That's my Daisy. Dreadful! And just right, too.