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In honor of Her Majesty

I am the luckiest Kitten in the whole world. 

Because I am loved. Cherished. Appreciated. Respected. Cared for. 

Sometimes these things are overwhelming. 

I don't know if I ever told you this story. I probably have, but I think you'll appreciate reading it again. And it deserves to be emboldened in print anyway. 

We started dating and I liked you. I liked you so much the first night. Your smell and your voice and your body. It was so intoxicating. 

I started to wonder after those first few weeks how I would detox from the drug that was you if you were to decide you didn't want me anymore. I got scared. I didn't want this thing to go away. 

You had me over for dinner that week. The week of my fear. 

I had made this casual comment (okay it wasn't casual it was loud and passionate) about how much I liked your bathroom Duck (Her Majesty). You said I couldn't have it. I insisted I should. 

Funny because that's not like me usually. Especially with strangers. 

You had bought Ducks. A hundred ducks. All different kinds of them. All different outfits and costumes and you'd placed them all around the kitchen. 

You told me I could pic only a handful for today and rest you would give to me later. 

I said when is "later?" and you told me that you would know when the time was right to present me each duck. 

I thought about that. I thought about how it could take years to present all these ducks to me...and I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt like that you do at that moment when you do a trust fall with a group of people you know will catch you and let yourself go, fully trusting that you're going to be just fine. 

I felt loved. 

You gave me that. Early in our relationship. At a time when I really needed it. 
I'll never forget that. 

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