Crawling into bed for an afternoon snooze I pulled the duvet around me and almost immediately felt a familiar depression in the covers and heard a small chirrup. This was soon followed by a wet nose and a soft, eager purring sound coming from the ball of fur that was snooping around for a way to get under the covers. I dutifully lifted the covers and she nuzzled her way in, and then out and then in, and then out and then in. Opting for in, she began her turning circles, all the while with the same rapid, impatient purr, until she finally settled in the crook of my arm, stretching her back against my inner arm, resting her head against my shoulder and reaching her upper paw across my chest almost as a human would snuggle up to their partner. As her small body relaxed, her purring became less urgent and more contented as we both drifted off to sleep, happy in each other’s company.

When I woke, she was gone, leaving a cold empty spot on the bed, out living her other life, the one where I don’t exist and there are lots of exciting smells and important stalking and chasing of things to be done. But next time I go near the food bowl or hit the sack, she’ll come bounding up the garden with that gorgeous welcome chirrup and impatient purr.