A Friday Kind of Love
This morning was a lazy lay-abed rainy kind of morning and hubby and I were cuddling together under the covers in that romantic way that couples do after many years of marriage. After a bit, we both became aware of a rhythmic noise accompanied by that sing-song purring that Bubba emits when he is particularly happy. He was sitting on the pillow, kneading away at it to beat the band, and purring his heart out. He is so atune to us that he sensed our moment of love, which brought back age-old memories of nursing at his mother's breast, and he joined us in the only way he knew how. Of course, in true Bubba fashion, he soon settled down on the pillow between us and presented the side to me that I always get while he nuzzled hubby's nose with his own cold wet one. I always get the butt end, but that's what happens when you're on the bottom of the food chain. Bubba considers me an unworthy opponent for Asa's affections. I'm okay when the food dish is empty, or when there isn't a man around the house to dote on him, but otherwise he gives me short shrift. I showed him though, one day. He has the habit of jumping in the van whenever I come home from the store and am unloading groceries. He loves to get inside and snoop around. A couple of times, we've "lost him" there, but not for long. One day I had to go across town to a friend's house. It was a hot day and my air conditioning was on the blink so I rolled the windows down. My friend and I visited for awhile and when I returned to my van, I saw Bubba prowling around across the street. It scared the hell out of me because I knew I could have lost him for good. I called him and he came over suspiciously and sniffed around, but when I opened the passenger door he hopped in. When I got home, I opened the door and let him out. I got out and went around the side of the van, and lo and behold, there were two Bubba's, backs arched and low growls emitting. It was like some sitcom, where you had to pick the right twin. I marched past them and went into the house, calling, "Bubba, come in!" Naturally, the real Bubba followed close behind (he never was much of a fighter). With the door closed behind me, I went out to find the other Bubba, but he was long gone. He made it home safely though. I went over and found out where he lived and left a note on their door. They called me shortly after and said they didn't even know he had been gone, and he was curled up on his favorite chair. Nowadays, when Bubba gets too uppity, I remind him that he *can* be replaced. But y'all know I don't really mean it.
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