Our cat has my husband trained. My husband wakes up in the morning and gives the cat his morning massage. The cat massage happens while he makes coffee. The cat comes in and flops down on my husbands feet. John knows exactly where the cat likes it best. Under the chin, on the shoulder, or the top of his head. What is surprising is how vigorously the cat seems to enjoy it. If you don’t give him his cat massage, he might reach out with his little paw and give you a swat.
To prove my point, the cat came in from outside tonight and started meowing. Incessantly. Loudly. Annoyingly. My husband heard the cat and came into the family room. He said the cat wanted his massage. So, I guess the cat gets his massages twice a day. The cat flopped down at John’s feet.
“A little more to the left…”
“Ahhhh, that’s it!”
“Now, a little more toward my chin…”
Then he flopped onto the other side.
My husband was not a cat lover when we first met. He used to make cat jokes. His family thinks he doesn’t like cats. But I think this post will “let the cat out of the bag”, so to speak.
Ha, ha! It’s a bad pun but if you know my husband, you’ll understand.