My little "f--ked up cat" is my very best friend at times.

There's nothing like it.

When you came home after a pathetically awful day and the only thing you want to do is scream at anyone who dares ask you a question (because you've been answering thousands of questions all day and solving everyone elses problems but your own) and find the biggest, most potent alcoholic drink you can find to get completely smashed with and you feel like sticking pins into the finger you sliced to the bone when you twelve and damaged the nerves in so you can't feel any pain anyway but it'd be fun just to watch yourself bleed because it reminds you that you're alive...

*inhale*

There she is.

*exhale*

With her cute little "I love you but I'd love you even more if you'd feed me now please" mrreows and the wanten smooches after she's finished inhaling her nightly meal as fast as she can just so she can catapult herself onto your lap and purr and roll and tumble and wrestle... and love.

I am that cat's entire world for those few minutes, and she's mine.

In those few minutes she will make as much noise as possible in a series of trills, tribbles, mrreows and throaty purrs, telling me everything that she did during her day, from perfecting her "lets pounce Dugite [her sister] and get our ass kicked" technique to how many socks she's managed to dig up around the house.

Well, no. Not really. I have no idea what she's saying - but she's happy, whatever it is. And she's happy to accept my kisses, cuddles and scratches until she's ready to do something else for a while.

But she always comes back to me when I'm feeling particularly awful, to crawl onto my lap no matter what I'm doing - because hey, if I'm sitting then I'm in a cuddling position, it doesn't matter if I'm typing frantically at the computer or watching television or reading a book. She'll check on me, purr all over me and then leave, only to come back half and hour later to make sure I'm still there and still okay.

And if I'm not okay, she intends to make it okay.

Like a best friend of the human sort, she calls by and checks up on me, to share my highs and my lows and do her damnedest to help out.

That cat loves as hard as she plays (and I've got the battle scars to prove it), but it's me she adores wholey. Not the other human in the house, just me.

And it's nice to have that sort of devotion all to myself.

She's not just a cat - she's my fuzzy cuddle buddy - the Tubby Purrball (as opposed to the tabby furball). She's got a big head, short stumpy body, long legs, mutton-chop old-man whiskers, a severe sock fettish and knocked knees at the back.

And she's absolutely perfect.

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