A night with a cat

Last night my semi-faithful street-house cat, Paprika, decided it was time to spend a night in my home. She cuddled up on the bed and purred us both to sleep, which was very sweet, although at first I was too afraid to move around - so I wouldn't crush her or something. At 4 A.M. in the morning she decided to try and massage my shoulder, with claws (ouch). The attempt failed. About an hour later, she meowed at the door and wanted to get out, so I let her out and went back to sleep.



All in all, I'm satisfied - this is progress. Perhaps I might learn a thing or two from her. Perhaps she even thinks that I'm a fun person to be with - more than just a food provider. I don't get the same vibes from some other people. It seems that when there's something dark and heavy to deal with, when there's trouble or ill tidings, I'm the first person to call, since I'm good at dealing with troubled people and/or troubled times. But when a party is being planned, or a fun trip, or just a playful tone is used... well, that doesn't come very naturally to me and usually isn't sent my way. Today I couldn't help but wonder if people would love me more if I were a more fun person. But what's the use worrying anyway? This is who I am. I can't be someone else.

Nor would I want to be.