I don’t want to ever forget how Binky would look at me after dinner when we’d go back and have couch time. He’d usually use the ottoman to jump up onto the couch. But that put him all the way across the couch from me. It didn’t matter what was in his way. Or how slippery it was. Or that he had arthritis and his back legs didn’t always work right the last year or so.
Papers. Computers. Boxes. Mail. He’d just step right over it, walking with purpose, even if his legs were wobbly that day, until he got to me. Then he’d put his front paws on my thigh and just look at me with so much love and need and expectation. “This is the time we have love, Momma. Every night. This is the time for love.”
And then he’d flop over so he was either half on my thigh and half not or until he was lying with his front paws or just one paw or his head on my ankle or over my ankle.
So many nights, my knees would start to bother me or my foot would fall asleep. I’d tell him, “Gotta shift legs, buddy.” Or “I need my foot back.” Or “Let’s switch feet, Bink.”
And he’d usually look up at me or stir slightly, but he always went right back to sleep moments later. Until I’d need to shift again. Over and over again. All night. Every night. I don’t remember when he started doing it, but it was sometime in 2020. Once in a while he’d still have a lap desk night, but I don’t think he ever went a night without at least a little Momma hip time.
My boy had the best eyes. The most expressive eyes. They always told you exactly what he wanted, and 99% of the time, all he ever wanted was to be loved.