It’s the Thought That Counts

You're writing about chickens when you could be writing about me??

You’re writing about chickens when you could be writing about me??

Linus decided that this blog has been too chicken-centric recently. “I know what will persuade her to write about me,” he said to himself last night, “a present! But,” he added, washing his whiskers thoughtfully, “what can I give to a human who has everything?” He glanced around the room. “A fuzzy mouse?  No, she gave that to me.”
“Us,” interjected Cookies. “The brown one is mine.”
“Yes, us, sorry,” continued Linus. “Some of those brightly colored blocks we like to bat around?”
“You mean the Legos that Small Human plays with? Nice thought, but they’re not safe to carry in your mouth. Believe me, I’ve tried,” replied Cookies.
Linus’s gaze fell on the gate blocking the stairs to the basement. “Got it!  What about a cricket? Everyone likes tasty crickets!”
“Now you’re talking! She absolutely loved the mouse I gave her for Christmas!” (Seriously. Cookies caught a mouse that had been plaguing our kitchen and proudly left it next to my side of the bed early Christmas morning.)
“Great! Thanks, Cookies!” Linus scampered down to the basement to search for the perfect cricket.
“Now, let’s see, she’s big, so the cricket needs to be big too,” Linus said to himself as he scanned the basement floor. “So that teeny one right there is for me!” (Pounce! Glurp!) “OK, large crickets . . . Ah ha!” With a mighty swipe of his white paw, he smote the cricket. “Cookies! I caught one! Where should I leave it so she’ll find it first thing?”
Cookies gave the matter some thought.  “How about the sun room floor? The pale tiles will highlight the cricket’s mottled color nicely. She’ll be sure to notice it at once.”
“You are an expert at these things, Cookies old boy,” admired Linus.
“Hey, I love her too. Happy to be of service,” yawned Cookies, tucking himself back in to the nice hollow in the owl pillow.
Linus proudly trotted back up the basement steps and laid the cricket on the tiles. “She’s going to love it!  But you know what’s better than just one cricket?  Two crickets!” He descended again. More hunting. More smiting. “Whoops!  Smushed that one a bit” he said to himself as he laid it next to the first. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”
As I came downstairs this morning, I heard pit-pat pit-pat “Chirrup!” from a very proud Linus. I leaned down to

Whiskery kiss!

Whiskery kiss!

rub him and received ecstatic purrs. Something then made me glance towards the sun room floor. “Linus, are those crickets for me?” More purring,  a deep look into my eyes, then a soft white and pink nose reached up to touch mine. “Thank you, buddy. I love you too.” And I won’t think too hard about where that nose has been . . .


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