GATITO would come to bed, usually around 2am, after seeing to the chores of world domination.
I’d scratch his head & neck, he’d push back hard. After some time, he’d settle, and flop against me gracelessly, in the most un-cat-like manner.
If I got up, for some reason, he’d sit there quietly waiting, let me get properly settled under the covers, wait for any blanket-just-right course corrections, then advance and lift my hand with his head. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
