Adorableness Plucks At Our Spiritual Threads
When I come to bed late, Onion waits for me by my pillow, and when I lean in to kiss his head, he rolls over to show me his belly. If I don’t rub it, he mews like a baby kitty. It is deeply adorable. Deeply.
I swear that extreme adorableness plucks at our spiritual threads, that oneness we hear about but rarely if ever get to experience. That might be why some of us exclaim about how we want to eat the baby whose toes we’re kissing. I’ve been known to grab this cat, squish our faces together, and say I love you so much I’m going to turn you into sweet kebabs. There’s a nonsexual desire to defy the bounds of our bodies and be unified.
Luckily, most of us don’t eat each other. The hairballs would be terrible.