So I’m laying on my back on the bed this morning doing the stretching exercises that Joe taught me. Near the end of the 15-second hold of each stretch, I notice myself groaning. Yes, they hurt. Not horrifically, but just enough to make me vocalize my discomfort.
My old cat, PIB (Puss In Boots), who I brought to my Mom’s townhouse when I realized that
caring for her would be a more long-term occupation than I’d originally thought, walks delicately over to my stretched self and gazes at me curiously. He starts purring and reaches a white-socked paw out and carefully, gently, touches my cheek. Then he tucks himself into the L-shape made by my head and shoulder, curled up and warm as toast. His purrs are loud in my ear.
I do the rest of my stretches with a goofy smile on my face, my groans reduced to soft grunts, and those only when I forget to breathe deep through the stretch. It’s just incredible, the power our animal brothers and sisters can draw on to ease our distress.
Another lovely gift.