Thursday, July 17, 2008

You can lead a dog to a lap but you can't make it cuddle

All I ever wanted was a lap dog. Somedog to cuddle me and lick me and snuggle and snoozle unendingly and like me a million times better than anyone else. Now if you have met Pixie you know this is the very opposite of her. Other than liking me best (she definitely prefers me to all else, to the point of pretty much hating the rest of humanity in general) Pixie makes known to all with affectionate delusions towards her that that's just not gooooooonna happen. If you ignore her completely she'll consider letting you live. So imagine my surprise as I dreamily peruse the newest Cricut cartridges online (scrapbookers' heaven) and my tiny monster stands upon my leg with a begging growl and large sweet eyes?

"What?" I ask her. "You can't mean what I think you mean!"

Demurely looking down, lashes shading her eyes, she peeks up coyly, a tiny moan escaping her precious black lips.

"Really? Up?" I say quite cautiously, not wanting to misunderstand, reach down for her, and have her think I am trying to end her life, as is often what happens when anyone attempts to touch her in any way.

Blink, blink, blink. Wide innocent eyes gazing into mine. She continues to stand against my leg, partially hidden under the desk.

"You do mean it!!!" I murmur as softly and calmly as I can in my excitement, moving slowly to elliminate possible frights or mind changes. I swoop her off her feet into my lap and with a sigh of contentment she curls immediately into a warm cuddly ball and falls promptly asleep.

SHE IS CUDDLING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS ALL I'VE EVER WANTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This happens, if I'm lucky, about once a year. And I've had her for 2 1/2 years. So this is about the second time. Wow. It's so wonderful. I feel so loved. I feel so worthy of trust.

The phone rings. Pixie jostles around disturbedly. I dare not move to answer it, or breathe really, lest she find reason therein to depart. We wait out the ringing. Her eyelids drift downwards again. I type this post one-handedly so as not to move the left hand that she is smushed up against.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh. I might stay here all day.