One young, orange and white cat. He is friendly and not particularly intelligent. He follows me around in the yard and likes to chase the chickens. He would be the perfect cat except for one problem.
Not every night, but with annoying regularity, he gets lonely in the wee small hours of the morning. He climbs on the bed, walks over the lumps and bumps under the covers until he gets to my head. Then the trouble starts. He sticks his nose in my ear, tickling my cheek with his whiskers. He licks my cheek and then bounds across the pillow to bestow some kitty kisses on my husband before he comes back. If one of us doesn’t start petting him he pushes his nose up under my hand. If that doesn’t work he nibbles on my fingers.
Ignoring him is difficult. Usually I give in and stroke his soft furry head. Most of the time he will settle down and drift off to sleep, unfortunately his favorite place to relax is draped across my neck.
He’s a friendly little fellow.
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