But Then You Make Me Crawl

Long-legged, fearless Drusy has a crush on me. It's sweet. It's beyond sweet. I couldn't love her more. Often, when I'm reclining on the couch, working on PIC or the second job, twiggy Drusy prances half-way up my leg before I notice and scoop her up into my arms. Though about seven months old and rangy, in my lap Drusy is just a baby, her face pressed against mine, her paw touching my cheek. She withdraws the paw. She places it against my nose, gazing into my eyes. Drusy nestles into my breast and leans this way, turns over and leans that until she finds a cozy spot. Her eyelids droop. She kisses me often and falls asleep in my arms, as babies will. When she does, with her paws around my neck or touching my face, I try not to think of poop I just scooped with pawprints in it.