His name is Faisal.
He’s got four legs and a tail and actually “he” is three.
Three four-legged, furry, needy, loving, demanding, individual, pains in the ass who are always happy to see me. Even the cats.
They cuddle around me on cold nights and stretch long and lean like pelts laid out in the warm summer heat.
They give about as good as they get, which is to say a lot and nothing.
I feed and care for them, provide them with my body on which to lay and adventures for the dog and loving indifference for the cats. They in turn withhold any longstanding urge to murder me and lick my face off.
I cannot imagine my life without them and their ceaseless demands for care and attention.
Sometimes I think they are the only things on the planet who care where I am and if I am alive because who else is going to feed them?
But more importantly, how else will they center their universe without me as their sun?
Shut up. I know there are a lot more suns than just me, but let me bask in this idea that to them I am integral to their happiness.
If only I knew a Faisal on two legs.