Sharples shares more of his memoirs
Come live with me, and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove – Christopher Marlowe
He sat on an old stool in the kitchen watching her as she moved around preparing supper. It always amused him how she had cooed adoringly at him from the first time they had met. Even now as she carved roast chicken neatly into slices she was making noises at him, every now and then her hand would reach over and stroke across his ear and he would lean into it, she seemed to like that response.
Her gentle nature had attracted him. And it was that nature that made him stay. Initially he had been shy when she had tried to hold him but now he murmured deeply to be held in her gently arms.
If he could love a woman this surely must be love. He had worked that out when she had gone away for just a few days to visit her sister. For those few days he had felt lost and alone.
Today she had come home and he had never been so happy to see anyone. How closely he followed her around as if he couldn’t bear to lose her again. And she had liked that so much her eyes had leaked.
‘You do love me, you little rascal’
They ate supper before settling down in the living room to listen to the radio. For the first time since they had met he snuggled on her lap and listened to her contented breathing as she stroked his fur. Yes Sharples had found his home.
© JG Farmer 2014