Problems? Brother, I got nothing BUT problems!

First, a little background. Me and Bumble Buzz go way back. Long before there was a roommate, a punk kid, a mortgage, a car payment, and any number of other soul crushing life elements, there was me and Bumble Buzz, living in a little one bedroom in Pacific Beach, San Diego, 8 or so blocks from the ocean, where life was good and dope was plentiful. When Bumble Buzz was a wee kitten, one of the first thing I did was put her next to my pillow went I went to sleep and petted her as I drifted off.



Now, that is her thing. Bumble Buzz isn't much of a cat. She's grouchy, and she doesn't really like other people or cats. She's a scaredy cat. She's the cat that gets gross chin acne and she ones had a big boil on her tail I had to pop. She gets Klingons on her butt and has bad breathe and her fur is sort of mangy. Still, the one single pleasure she gets in life is laying next to my pillow and letting me pet her as she goes to sleep. Clearly, it is her favorite thing in the world. She'll even pace around at night, meowing at me, as if reminding me it is time to go to bed, and as soon as I had to the bedroom, she's on her spot next to the pillow.

Well, as Reggie Hammond said, there's a new sheriff in town.

Lately, I've been waking up in the middle of the night, and REGGIE (the cat, not Eddie Murphy) is laying next to me, by my pillow, nuzzling and snuggling and being a little angel. Usually Bumble Buzz is sitting off to the background, glowering and growling. And now, when I wake up in the middle of the night, Reggie is there instead of Bumble Buzz.

Usually I have to think about it, and convince myself is it not the most wonderful dream I am in. Reggie is soft like pressed Yugoslavian velvet. His breath is like a warm autumn breeze in the countryside, and his purr is like a gentle melody. He's got cute bristly whiskers and a cold wet nose and a scratchy little tongue. I end up staying up for hours on end petting him --AND IT'S THE GREATEST JOY I HAVE EVER KNOWN.

Sometimes, late at night, my roommate is too passed out from drink to rouse to the cry of the baby in the other room, who is clearly very cold, or very hungry, or both. And I know I probably should get up and feed the kid, but petting Reggie is SO AWESOME.



Anyway, dear readers, I pose this question to you... Is it possible to love too much?