I have Bubba

I thought of you as I sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his silky black hair.  "You're a rock star" I crooned "Everyone loves you, and you picked me!  I'm so blessed to have you in my life."  My love rubbed his head against me in agreement. 

I scooted over in bed.  "Come here".  Beautiful green eyes considered me and he leapt up on the edge of the bed, purring, and lay down next to me. 

"Bub-ba!" I crooned.  "I love you so.  You're my first kitty, you know that?  I loved you from the very first moment I met you, a tiny little black thing with blue eyes, hiding under a car."  I did. 

Envy is a sin, and boy I sinned a lot the first year of his life, wishing Bubba lived with me.  His first human was a cat collector and had about 8, total.  The rest were all striped brown tabbies, he was the only black cat, and a likely offspring of my own cat, Midi. 

Midi had to go away after developing a dangerous biting habit (particularly bad around Ron), and I was catless.  Then she moved, about 9 years ago, 'and took even the bird feeder. 

Naturally I assumed she'd taken the cats, including Bubba.  Imagine my horror when he ran up to me, starving.  I checked, his human wasn't coming back and cared less if the cats lived or died. 

He's MINE now, I defiantly told the landlord. 

He had been very cautious around people - because he was solid black the kids used to brag about trying to kill him, run him over, throw rocks at him, etc.  I saw this.  Bubba was very careful.  Most of my experiences were looking under a car at his beautiful green eyes, looking back, as he sadly wondered if I'd hurt him, too. 

"Why don't you feed him?" Ron suggested.  Bubba was well fed, but it was a good idea.  I brought a small handful of food on my next run.  He came over, sniffed at the food, and allowed me to pet him for the first time.  After that, I'd always take him a little food or treat.  He'd come over, sniff it, and allow a little petting before he went back under his car. 

Now I was the only food around - thank God he did know I'd feed him.  I told Bubba he could move in if he sold Ron, and boy did he.  Bubba's been a valued freind ever since. 

Bubba likes to walk on Ron and sit by his head, as Ron lies in bed, for treats and petting.  For me, Bubba just climbs into my bed and sleeps either near my feet or my right shoulder.  Bubba knows I'm a restless sleeper and I'll squash him otherwise. 

I find it endearing, Bubba allows Baby Girl access anywhere in the house.  Save one place - my bed.  She is forbidden.  That's Bubba's spot.  He likes to sleep in my bed when I'm gone, right smack in the middle.  In fact, I know it's time to wash the sheets when I can see the cat hair.  If Baby Girl goes anywhere near the bed he growls at her like a junkyard dog. 

What a sweet boy.  He likes my cuddles, too. 

I woke up with him.  We took a nap together.  So what if I have a horrible depression? 

I have BUBBA.