I get my cheek nuzzled by one of my room mates, or a cat, or and equine, and what's the difference? All show their appreciation of me, sometimes in the same way, and sometimes not. Neither my mentor nor my protégé have scraped their incisors repeatedly across the palm of my hand, or my arm, nor dug their claws into me to hold on to me while bitin' me, and holding on to my hand with very sharp teeth, thank the gods. Never mind about the kicks with the sharp claws on the rear paws.
Still, I can't help but be touched as I remember all the times I had my arm around a pony, or horse's neck, whilst I was cheek to cheek with him. I may have had my free arm go up the front of his face, with my hand in his forelock. We'd be frozen, and they'd never toss their heads. It happened all the time. Oh, I'd have to go next door, see if I could pick up a few kilos of carrots and perhaps make them some carrot juice later. Or perhaps both carrots and apples. If I was going to spend all the time it took to clean the juicer afterward, I might as well put it to good use. I'd have to sort through the veggie draw to see if I could make a mixed veg juice for us, after.
Hey! And the equines loved the leftovers. Couldn't get a higher fibre meal, but they considered it a treat. How many others would give their horse or pony three or four litres of carrot juice, apple juice, and the trimmin's of that in one sittin'? Not that I did this very often. Once a month, generally. Sometimes twice. If I got a hankerin' for some fresh fruit or veggie juice, I took everyone with me. You have no idea how much I hated cleanin' the juicer, and if I was gonna do that, I was goin' to make it worth my while, OK?
Oh, and the cats. I swear their favourite place to be was in someone's lap. We'd look into each other's eyes, and we could read each other's feelings behind those eyes. It seemed the same with my room mates closer to my species. We'd just stare at each other as we sat beside each other, a finger down a cheek here, hair stroked there, and both would move foreward in perfect synchronisation into tight embrace. There we'd stay for moments on end, wishing for eternity, and knowin' even our proximity wasn't close enough; though that would change. . .soon. . .though soon in never soon enough. . .to fill that void of incompletion that nothin' could touch where we were.
We'd have to go back to where I came from, for that. Before this project of mine. How long time is drawn out when you're trapped in it, is amazing. I'd forgotten.
Lust was another matter. A different animal, all together. I'm not fit to write about it right now, however. I'm not even sure I can write about it, considering I'm not even sure how it specifically applies to two of us; despite the fact we do make out quite often. I might have to ask the mullethead to do a post on my blog for that, but I might not. Maybe I should just do an in depth analysis of mine self, and try to make sense of it all, and do my own post. Then again, the doctors might find the cause of hot flashes during menopause before I make sense of myself, so don't hold your breath!
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