So my cat was exuding love molecules this morning.
You know, when you wake up and the cat is all in love with you, falling over upside down waving his widdle paws in the air and showing his pokka-dotted fuzzy tummy while he does a bad impression of a stripper writhing on the floor.
I cooed love words then wandered off to eat some yogurt and read the morning paper. He trailed after me, still lovesick, then sat next to my chair all blinky eyed and trying to be too cute to bear.
I knew what he wanted.
Recently he’s started (trying) to cultivate a new morning ritual. Where I sit at the kitchen table and he gets to sit in my chair with me, he in front with his chin resting on the table. The perfect place for him to get lots of kisses and pets while I get covered in orange cat hair and drool.
So I steeled my heart, continued eating and reading.
Meanwhile, the cat went into high gear with the blinking and the oozing of love and unbearable cuteness. He started gumming my toe.
So I caved, the cat jumped up and I got covered in fur and drool drops. I called him my Enki-doo be doo.
To which the husband replied with :
To be or not to be. ? Shakespeare.
To be is to do. ? Hegel.
To do is to be. ? Marx.
Do be do be do. ? Sinatra.
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