Loverboy ain't a dumbbell.

My cat. Loverboy. Qualifies. As my closest daily companion. Perhaps more so. Than my beloved Italian amore.  Just so happens. That Loverboy is with me. Virtually every day. In the flesh. My amore, Cristina, and I, live together. Only several months out of the year. The rest of the time, we connect on Skype. Or by phone. I spend more direct time with Loverboy, than with Cristina. That seems acceptable to everyone. Fortunately, Cristina isn't jealous. She doesn't fret about playing second fiddle to a cat. Maybe it's that Loverboy has cozy-upped  to Cristina. In so many ways. Especially when Cristina is with me in Minnesota. But Loverboy also gets on Skype. And talks to Cristina. In Italian. In that respect, he outshines me. My Italian isn't all that good. Anyway, it's obvious. That Loverboy is an amazing and extraordinary cat. Almost human. We have a spiritual connection with each other. Reading each others' mindful thoughts.  He's sending me a message tonight.  Pleading. That he be allowed to accompany me. On my next trip to Sardinia. So that he can declare his love -- for Cristina and Italy. 'Get me out of Minnesota,' he pleads, 'before the snow and cold of winter sets in.' Another sign. That Loverboy ain't a dumbbell. --Jim Broede