Grateful for Pet Therapy

As many of you know, I have been having some medical challenges in recent months that have been trying and scary to say the least.

Sleeping is pretty tough and I'm not pleasant to be around with constant coughing so my regular bed buddy (aka Rick) has been sleeping down at his house.

Meanwhile, I have a pretty darned wonderful Bed Buddy remaining -- The Gypsy!

Mr. Gyps , I think it's safe to say, operates in great part on the base level of Maslow's pyramid. Give me food, give me shelter, give me a litter box, give me love.

Not surprisingly, this can make for a very sweet friend. Sometimes excessively so -- I have learned to knit with a 15 pound cat on my lap, read while being pawed and sleep through having this lump jump on or off the bed. I learned a long time ago that I can put on make-up better if he's not sitting next to me on the bathroom counter, meowling but having his breakfast instead.

Who's the master here?

I do this freely and fully of joy because he's the best pet therapy ever. Lay in bed struggling to breathe and reach out to feel the thick, soft fur laying beside you. Lay your head close to his body and hear his rhythmic purr. Breathe to that rhythm. Works for me.

Gypsy came into my world about twelve years ago, a six-week bundle of fur who had been dumped and decided my window well was as good a place to live as any. He and Stimpy enjoyed long cat conversations through the glass. It took time to get him to come to me, to allow me to pick him up. For some time, he lived in a wooden box affixed with a light bulb to keep him warm -- till a possum moved into the box and Gypsy moved into the house.

He was the tiniest thing I'd ever seen.

I named him Gypsy Rose after the Sondheim musical "Gypsy" and because he was a wanderer. When I finally officially adopted him and took him to the vet, I learned he was more like a Gypsy King -- it's harder to tell on kittens. Now he's uncommitted.

He and Stimpy were a dynamic duo till four years ago when we said goodbye to our orange and white angel boy.

I'd had intentions of finding a friend for him. Now, I'm pretty sure that would be a bad idea -- he's very possessive.

As an executive assistant, he's close to useless, sleeping on the job or continually disrupting my typing by trying to be a kitten on the keys.

He's also had a penchant for eating paper and chewing on yarn. Or chasing it. If yarn is near, Gypsy will find it.

Others would be fired for this behavior.

Traveling isn't his strong suit and his green thumb could use some improvement.

His avocation is bird watching. Not much skill required there.

No, his greatest skill is as therapist. Who listens better? Who loves unconditionally, doesn't ever erupt in anger, and realizes having his tummy rubbed is a win-win situation?

Yes, I'm grateful for pet therapy -- especially with this bundle of love.