Thomas Ramey Watson

Cats

I was outside talking to someone in my back yard. He’s a cat lover. Noir found us and started rubbing on my legs.

We talked about my burgeoning fruit trees. Suddenly, Noir jumped up on my back, digging his claws in to hold on while he purred.

Bent over so he’d stop digging in, I asked the guy to remove him. He was afraid he’d jump on him.

“No, just me. I had several cats like this when I was growing up. They’d find me and jump up on my shoulders. I wasn’t so tall then so they could jump on my shoulders and lie down, legs draped around my neck.”

As he held Noir, he said, “He’s still purring.”

“Yeah, he loves me. I am his and he is mine.”

He laughed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

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