{When You Love Them the Most}

On a beautiful spring day in May of 1999 my first children were born. Their mommy, Peanut, gave birth inside a cozy cardboard box on my in-law's front porch. Cory and I, his sister Megan, and their parents were all there to witness the miraculous event. Little Peanut lovingly birthed three boys and one girl (and one other kitty who sadly didn't live). She cleaned them, nursed them, and taught them the ins and outs of being a feline. Cory and I were about to be married in July, so we decided we would take the girl kitten and one of the boys. The timing was perfect since they were able to stay with their momma for a little over two months. When Cory and I came home from our honeymoon, Megan wrapped up our kitties (literally) and brought them to my mother's house where we all gathered to open our wedding gifts. They then traveled four hours south to our first home in Virginia where we lived for three years. We named them Simba and Ariel and they quickly became our babies.

Simba slept beside me every night. We spooned. We cuddled. He cozied right up to me and we've had a love affair ever since.

Simba and Ariel are now almost twelve years old. While Ariel has always been shy and only likes attention on her terms, Simba is a loverboy. He follows me around the house and likes to be next to me almost all the time. Nothing makes him happier than getting loves.

But our special time is still at night. Simba waits for me to head upstairs, do my nightly routine, and get in bed. He jumps in right away, often before I even touch the sheets. And every night he cuddles in the same spot on my shoulder. He purrs, he nudges me to pet him, and he lays his head on my chest and goes to sleep. When I wake up in the morning he is still there, waiting for his morning loves.

I can't describe how much I love this cat. He's my baby. He's my love muffin. I look forward to bedtime each night knowing that he will be there waiting to love me back.