Because I Just Can’t Talk Enough About My Cats…

Okay, not really.

But you do get to be treated to this picture of Max, who is trying to hurry me along in opening a bag of treats he received from a kitty friend in Florida.

Hey, don’t roll your eyes. He and Buddah got a whole box of goodies from a kitty friend.

After this morning, they deserve a treat or two. I woke a whole lot earlier than I would have liked, my back feeling like someone had beaten it with a crow bar. I wasn’t surprised; yesterday as I sat down in my nice comfy chair, a muscle in my back clenched, and it’s been sore since. But this morning it was screaming at me, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to roll over, much less get out of bed to function as the cats’ can opener.

Then Max jumped up on the bed, crawled carefully onto my back, and began to purr. Buddah joined him, although his aim was a little off: he plopped down on my butt and began to purr just as hard.

Fifteen minutes of kitty therapy loosened the muscles that were in spasm enough that I was able to get up, and as reward they got fed early.

A bonus for all three of us.

It occurred to me, as I was bending over to put their plates on the floor, that I’ve been in varying degrees of pain for over nine years. No, don’t go “awwww” or feel sorry for me. It’s generally not significant pain and not nearly as bad as 99.5% of people with my problems have; usually it’s just this annoying little thing that settles on me the way the buzzing of a fly settles into background noise.

It’s not a big deal, but like this morning, every once in a while I find myself pondering how long its been. And then I think there should be a trophy for milestones: 1 year, 5 years, 10 years.

Next year, I want a freaking trophy.
Or chocolate.
Or a chocolate trophy.

Yep, that would be nice. A 5 foot tall chocolate trophy. I might even share.

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