Waking up in the morning and feeling the light pressure of something warm pressed against my shoulder. I know that familiar, languid resistance: it’s my cat. I say mine because, of the two, he has adopted me specifically. When I open my eyes it’s to see his sweet, sweet face, peaceful in slumber. My smile mimics his contentment and I reach down and bury my fingers in the silky softness of his fur. He curls towards me with soft grunty noises, and sleeps on.