I’m awake. The cat has been sitting on my chest for several minutes now, grooming himself. You wouldn’t think of cat’s paws as anything but soft, but something hard is jabbing me in the ribs. Do cats have elbows? Sharp pointy elbows?
I shift pillows and comforter from the edge of the bed and summon my dog with a pat on the mattress. Sometimes he comes, sometimes he sits in the doorway of the bedroom and scratches himself, his back foot thumping a frantic beat on the hardwood floors.
When he deigns to join me, I lift my face so his sloppy greeting licks my chin and not my face. Then -usually – he turns his back on me and plops down, waiting for his back rub, or his “booty scritch” as I call it.
His luxurious coat is so soft, I bury my face in it and work my hand up the length of his spine and back down. He leans into the pressure, and turns his eskie smile on me. A pat on his bum, and a final smooch from him ends the ritual, and he hops to the floor.
Less nimble, I roll to the edge of the bed, sit up, place my feet on the cold floor,
and climb out of my comfort zone.
Bloganuary daily prompt: Write about the last time you left your comfort zone.