Pussy

It is perhaps 5:30 in the morning, on Satuday. The sky is brightening outside my window.

I awakened to the feel of the cat I am cat-sitting drapped across my chest, her tail tickling my clavicle and her paws kneading my mound. I stroked her fur, so soft, and she began kneading in earnest, which was fine, except that her claws started to dig in to the blanket atop my mound. I was worried her little sharp nails might prick something I didn't want her to, so I gently, very gently moved her off to the side.

There are parts of me I won't risk damage to.