In one situation, I want one thing, and in another circumstance I wish for things to be some other way, and then lo and behold in rare wondrous case there is a third happening, similar yet fleeting.
Will this tug of war within my heart ever end?
And my reveling in war ends...Oh the happiness that is Pepperjack. My cat smells of clove and cinnamon and peppermint and a hint of thyme. These are part of his anti-flea remedy, and he looks like he has just had some styling from a hip cat-barber-oil and all. He isn't scratching though! I love my kitty....I'm so glad to have my kitty. He loves it when I hold him like a baby, or set him over my shoulder, and I think I enjoy it even more than he does. It must relieve some of the mothering devotion that sometimes gets built up inside me, seeking and sometimes finding release on unsuspecting subjects.
Confession: I even sprayed some of the anti-flea spray on my ankles, since I seem to be the favored target when an animal no longer an appealing host. I still have scars from my flea infestation about 2 years ago, and I was the only one in my household that was being devoured by these octopamine-regulated pests.
Ah well, peace comes in many forms, even feline.
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