Boadicea

square826There in the half darkness sits a cat, the white fur of her neck mounded like a cravat, a tabby shield over her heart.  A loud, uneven purr pours out of her nose.  She waits for my service, first as waiter, then as warmer on the bed.  This is my companion when the disturbances of the night interpose themselves between me and the equanimity that I covet.  I am a bore, but she is a cat and requires no conversation.