They are the only ones who tamper with me. I am the only one who forgives them. Seven rambunctious cats with soft souls and peppy personalities like mine. Seven who were not part of a family but now have one. Seven genuine individuals that found a permanent place in my heart. At the base of my bed, I can hear them, but Cali stays sleeping and doesn’t get woken up by the little creatures.

Their jolility is hidden. They appear feisty on their surface. They’ll act stubborn and angered but with one scratch behind their ears and out comes the contentment they’ve been concealing. This is their true selves.

Let one of them go unnoticed, he’ll wine like an unfed baby, waiting for the slightest bit of attention. Purr, purr, purr is the sign he is now happy, I assure. They are comforted.

When I am too tired and too overwhelmed with my day, or when I am happy with what has come my way, then it is the cats I look at. When I need company, or a friend. Seven with time they’re willing to spend. Seven who are there for me and do not forget to be. Seven who will be with me until the end.