a tickle

pulled my tail.
conversation scratched my ears.
am purring.
will roll over for a tickle.

Note: I just got off of the phone with a guy who cleans rugs. He asked about pets ... and I was reminded of my cat who gingerly walked around the rug from window to the outer boroughs of the living space. I don't know why he always walked around it. He was always deliberate in his movement. And he certainly wasn't shy about getting his paws and fluff on every other surface in the place. Sadly, he died. I can't seem to get around to getting another cat. No cat could replace the best one. And so I had to say to the rug guy: no, I don't have a cat ... anymore. I remembered that I wrote this little ditty when I hung up. Mister so loved to have his tummy tickled. I had wished that who I wrote this for would be as easy. Maybe I should've told the rug guy that there's no guy here either to muss up the rug. Just me.

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