When I was a teenager, I would put on these thick, leather snowmobile gloves.
Our cat would see me putting them on, and his tail would start swishing.
He liked to fight.
He would grab the glove, roll over on his back and start kicking with his back legs.
His ears would be back and he’d be growling.
The problem was, I’d be ready to quit and he’d still want to fight.
One night, I woke up and he was sitting on my chest.
“Where are your leather gloves now?” He said.
I pulled the covers over my head,