Y’all probably figure this is about Frank. Nope. Minerva, of course. Ever since Rogue ran away, Minerva has kind of turned back into my bebe, my sweetest, my snuggliest. She’d gotten out of the habit of following me around. If she was sleeping, she slept on our bed with Rogue. If she was up, she was playing with either Sydney or Rogue. Or hissing at Rowdi. She still slept with me at night, but things just weren’t the same. She’d found a new friend, moved on a little.
Now Rogue’s been gone for a month or so, and Minerva is all over me. She sleeps behind the crook in my knees at night, and in the morning I wake up on my back, and she’s between my knees. If I’m on the couch, she’s either curled up on my leg or softly purring behind my head. When I go to the bathroom, she has to come with. I go into the gameroom, and she sleeps on a box or in whichever ottoman chair I’m not using. When I cook, she splays herself in the middle of the kitchen floor and cries at me if I walk too close to her.
Do you think I’m complaining? I’m so not. I’m relishing.
When she was a kitten, I used to tell her, “You’re the sweetest and the cutest, and I love you the best!” I still tell her, only if Frank’s around, I have to whisper it. “I love you the best, but don’t tell Daddy!” I, of course, stage whisper it.