Houston . . . we have a problem.
Y’see . . . I’m an affectionate person. So is Ms. Madison.
And . . . well, see, we have this puppy, Trixie.
At first it was cute.
We’d pet one or more of the cats and Trixie would come and place herself between us and the cat. We’d pick one of the cats up and hold it and pet it and talk to it and she’d jump up and down on our legs, urging us to put that damn cat down and pick her up.
But every once in awhile, understandably, Ms. Madison would be overcome with emotion, at the sheer joy of having me in her life, and wrap her arms around me and give me a great big ol’ smooch.
Trixie says . . . “Hey! There’ll be none of THAT going on!”
And she jumps up and down and forces herself between us.
It used to be that we, Ms. Madison and I, would enjoy spooning. Cuddling. (That activity where two human forms tend to “spoon” – that is, bring two bodies together as one, one holding the other, and just lie there together . . . enjoying the mutual body warmth, the sense of closeness, perhaps chatting quietly, perhaps just being together, maybe even drifting off to sleep together).
No, Ms. Trixie has decreed that there will be no cuddling in this house unless it is with her. She squeezes herself in between us and decides she wants to play with both of us. Soon, she has us both giggling. Giggling does not lend itself well to ‘quiet time.’
The good news is that neither Ms. Madison nor I shall lack for affection. Trixie has plenty of affection and attention for both of us.
The bad news is, I kinda like Ms. Madison and rather enjoy holding her in my arms from time to time. Maybe even stealing a quick kiss or two. And sometimes I would prefer to be alone with her.
Are those days gone forever?
They are if Trixie has anything to say about it.