I live alone.
And yes, I pretty much LOVE living alone.
So you can imagine my surprise when, as I was sitting here on my couch editing some work a few moments ago, I felt someone combing my hair.

:shock: :shock: :shock: :shock: :shock:

A quick, panicky look over my shoulder assured me all was well.
Believe it or not—and I SWEAR it’s true—my cat was combing my hair.
No, I am NOT making it up. He’d perched behind me on top of the couch (and I never pay attention to them getting up there), and was calmly, smoothly, raking his claws through my hair. :razz:

I’ve posted this pic before, but that’s Raphael, aka Boo, aka Boo-Bear, etc., etc., on the left.
A strong, stout fellow, he was born stone deaf, and has a heart of gold. Loves everyone.
And apparently, he’s a born stylist.
I’m thinking about trying a chignon. :yesyesyes:

Not too shabby for a lady living alone, eh??
And he doesn’t even expect me to cook or do his laundry. :grin: :grin: :grin: