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Caturday Pootie Diary: Touching you, touching me [1]
['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']
Date: 2025-01-18
“Human, do not touch my tail,” Freddie growled, his tail twitching enticingly in front of me. We were sitting together on the couch, fully reclined, him lying between my legs with his head at my feet.
That tail was the only part of him I could reach to pet.
I ran the tip of his tail gently between my fingers, letting go at his words. “But it’s so soft,” I complained.
“No.”
A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦 Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community.
Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people.
Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly. There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw.
I leaned forward, lifting myself up a little, reaching for his body. I managed to rest my fingers just above the tip of his tail. I stroked the fur there.
He opened his eyes and glared over his shoulder at me. “Not there!” he barked.
“But that’s all I can reach!” I said.
“No!”
I sighed and threw myself back against the seat. “I just want to love you,” I whined.
“No,” he repeated.
“Freddie, ow, that hurts,” I muttered, sleepily. I had reclined my seat almost all the way so I was almost flat on my back. What had woken me was the pressure of the weight of his fifteen and three-quarters pounds balanced on two small paws, on top of by boobs.
I opened my eyes and we made eye contact, him above me, looking down. “You need to move,” I said.
“I’ve decided you can pet me now,” he said.
“That’s nice. But you need to either settle down or move just a few inches south.”
“Pet me,” he demanded.
“Alright, fine,” I said, obeying his edict.
A little later and it was Freddie’s turn to sleep. He was curled up in the space he had none-to-gently made between my knees, and this time he was facing me. One arm stuck straight out, his paw curled a little, and just in reach of my fingers.
I gently rubbed the pads of his paw with my pointer finger, enjoying the soft texture of his toe beans.
His claws extended and retracted, once, twice, thrice, before they extended all the way, trapping my finger without puncturing it. He opened his eyes.
“This feels like a threat,” I said.
“Don’t touch my paw,” he said, quietly.
“Freddie,” I whispered, needing to wake him but also not wanting to. He was stretched out between my legs again, his head resting on my ankle. Enough time had passed in this position that my foot was well and truly asleep.
“I need you to move your head,” I said, still whispering.
He heaved a tired sigh, but did not move.
Slowly, carefully, I rotated my ankle, feeling blessed relief when it cracked.
Freddie stood and stretched.
“No, don’t go!” I cried.
He went.
I left the bathroom, shaking my hands a little to remove the excess water. That was when I spotted him.
He was drinking from the water we kept in the hallway for him. He refuses to drink water in the kitchen near his food, so this was a good compromise.
I stepped as quietly as I could toward him, but I will never be quiet enough to evade his cat hearing. He looked up, running his tongue over the fur above his mouth. “What?” he asked.
I bent down. He attempted to run, but was just a little too slow. I scooped him up and straightened, one arm supporting his backside, the other holding his body against mine.
“Release me,” he demanded.
“No,” I said, kissing him.
He started to rabbit kick.
“Alright, hold your horses,” I said, bending back down and setting him gently on his feet.
“There are no horses here,” he said, walking away from me.
We were back on the couch, but he was sitting next to me rather than on me. He was watching me, his ears not quite forward, his tail thumping against the seat.
“You look open for pettings,” I observed, foolishly. Reaching out, I touched the fur on his chest.
He bent down and bit me.
“Rude!” I said.
I woke, groggy from haven taken too many little naps. I rubbed my face and looked down at my lap.
Freddie was asleep, his body resting against my abdomen and dropped across my thighs. He head rested on my other arm and I realized it was a little wet from a small bit of drool.
I chuckled. “You sleep deeply,” I said.
He rubbed his head on my forearm, once, then rested it there again.
I stroked his fur from head to his tail.
“Don’t touch my tail,” he murmmered, sleepily.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! Freddie is pretty chill about most things, but touching his tail is not one of them.
[END]
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