This morning, I woke up propped up sitting-in-bed style, the way you find yourself sleeping when you have a cough that keeps you up all night.
I was strangely taking up a lot of space in bed, using a lot more blankets than usual, propping me up in different ways and the first thing I thought of when I woke up was: I hope I didn't squish Earl (my 18-year old cat).
Earl loves to sleep in bed with me (glad someone/something does! Kidding...kind of.) so I knew she must be somewhere in this mess of blankets.
And then I found her.
The devoted pet she is, she was hanging off the one edge of my bed available to her.
So when my single lady friends ask me "Will a cat really make me less depressed?"
I think you know what my answer is.
Keep it mild,