A Little Something About A Fat Cat

I put the last pan in the dish rack and Mom presses the buttons on the dishwasher. Rubbing our stomachs and sighing, we look at each other and trudge up the stairs without having to say a word.

We flop down on her bed and she picks up the remote after a minute. Another sigh and we're flipping through the DVR guide, letting our backs sink into her duvet-covered TempurPedic mattress. We settle on a recorded episode of "Two And A Half Men" and scroll through our Facebook news feeds on our phones, swapping the funniest and strangest statuses we come across.

With a throaty, questioning meow, Buddy wriggles his flubbery little body and jumps onto the bed. Seeing us both in one place, he sniffs my face and nuzzles my nose, letting out muted meows of joy before hopping over to Mom and half-laying on her stomach. We can feel his rumbling boy-cat purr through the bed. He comes back to me and wedges his pudgy body between my arm and body; I'm the one with the pink fleece blanket. He settles in, throwing one arm over mine. His purr skips as he takes a deep breath and resumes at a slighter decibel as he drifts off to sleep.

Buddy is Mom's cat. He has been since she couldn't leave Petco without adopting him. Her first reaction was the same as mine, although separated by hours: "Awww hey, buddy boy!"

And so, from day one, we couldn't help spending our spare time in the laundry room cuddling the lanky kitten called Buddy who was always unusually warm and snuggly.

And when he grew in age and breadth, Buddy returned the favor. Now, he can't bear to be left alone. When we stand in the kitchen talking, he'll reach up and stand against our legs, nudging at our hands, desperate for our love. Last summer, the whole family sat around the fire pit on the back patio as Buddy scratched the glass storm door at lightning speed. When his arms got tired of beating at the glass, he'd pace back across the kitchen. On the return trip to the door, he'd remember his family was stranded outside, waiting for him to rescue them. And the scratching would begin again.

Buddy has always been one of those animals who loves his people wholly and forever. We can do all kinds of horrible things to him, like vacuuming or having small children over, and somehow he manages to forgive us. And every night, he snuggles one of us to sleep.

Who could ask for more?