I became a widower six years ago. Then one year ago my dog Sammy died.
It was a couple of weeks ago when a good friend stopped by and asked, “How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine, why do you ask?”
“I have a female friend I’d like you to meet.”
“I don’t know that I’m ready. I’m doing OK living by myself.”
“I really think you’ll like her. She’s just been evicted from her home, and I think you should meet her.”
“OK, but no guarantees.”
“I’ll go and get her.”
An hour later she arrived. She was beautiful, soft black hair, green eyes, thin and very well-proportioned.
We went inside as my friend drove away.
She needed to use the bathroom. After she came out, I said, “You look hungry.” I fixed her some food. She ate hurriedly and then we moved into the living room. We sat on the couch. She moved next to me. She looked submissive, but with an independent streak.
After some intense petting, we moved into the bedroom. Under the covers we cuddled and spooned, and of course I was the first to fall asleep. When I awoke the next morning, she was still there, content and staring at me.
I was smitten and in love. I’m now in a committed relationship. Until death do us part.
And that’s how I got my cat.
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