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They Give Us Love

Story ID:3759
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Musings, Essays and Such
Location:Fort Lee New Jersey USA/Canada
Person:My Cats and Dogs
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They Give Us Love

It was Saturday morning, the beginning of two days of freedom from school. I
pulled the blankets up to my chin and drifted back to sleep. A car with a rotted muffler
roared in my ear and woke me. I opened my eyes. My cat pushed his nose against my ear
and purred contently. Rusty, what are you doing? He rubbed his head against my
cheek and continued to purr. Im awake, Rusty. Stop it! I scolded and turned my back
to him.

He walked over top of me to the other side, where he sat and stared at me. OK!
Come on. I said and lifted the blanket. Rusty ducked underneath, made his way along
my body, turned, and crawled back up. When his head popped out from under the covers,
he rolled on his side and rested his head on my pillow.

OK, you can stay. I said and tucked the blankets around both of us.

Mum said he never went near my room during the school week, but on the
weekends, hed nudge the door open with his nose and climb into bed with me.

On school days, a few minutes before my bus dropped me off at home, my old
dog Blackie would wander across the yard and sit by the side of the road. She knew the
time. When the bus stopped, shed stand, wag her tail, and wait for me to come and give
her loving pets.

In my teens, I hunted rabbits with my rabbit hound Skippy. He was a
beagle/birddog mix and one of the best hunters I ever owned. Monday through Friday, Id
be in the kitchen preparing for school. Through the window, I could see Skippy sleeping
contently in his dog house. He paid no attention to me. However, on Saturday morning,
as soon as I entered the kitchen, Skippy would be out of his house. Hed stand at the end
of his rope, stare up at the window, wag his tail and bark continuously to be taken

Skippy and Rusty are long gone. I only have Kitten now. Shes a grey tabby.
When I come home from work, shes waiting for me. She sits on the floor near the living
room and meows at me. Her cries intensify if I turn away from her. She comes into the
kitchen, rubs her face against a chair leg, and continues to meow. She knows I am
supposed to go to the sofa. Its what I always do. When I finally make a move in the
direction of the living room, she runs ahead, and waits for me to sit on the sofa. As
soon as I am settled, she comes to me for her nightly loving. If I start up my computer,
she pushes her hand away from the keyboard. She wants my love.

Blackie, Rusty, Skippy, and Kitten taught me a valuable lesson if you love
someone, pay attention to their schedules and their needs. Always be ready to give your
unconditional love.

Michael T. Smith