Indulgence

Cha-cha’s brilliant green eyes watch me lazily from her favourite spot on the duvet as she basks in the glorious sun that streams through my bedroom window on winter afternoons.

The bed beckons and I, replete and relaxed after a delicious Sunday meal, cannot resist its softly plumped up embrace. Pan has opted to work off his lassitude in the water, but for me, this particular ritual is priceless beyond measure.

The cat mews in protest as my body encroaches upon her territory, but the invitation to curl up under the featherbed duvet with me serves as a more-than-adequate bribe. Hot, velvety black fur tickles my body as she settles in next to my ribcage; her purrs vibrating against my skin as I caress the naked pads of her feet. We are connected, she and I.

Captured in the wooden window frame, tall palm trees wave languorously against an azure sky. A translucent veil of cloud trails lightly behind an invisible bride and gradually fades from my view.

Light refracts off the ornamental crystal bowl that sits on my dressing table and paints rainbows on the bedroom wall. The room seems to glow - if it were possible - in inaminate pleasure.

Birds sing out sporadically from the tall trees outside, but they - like me and my apparently boneless feline companion - are content to simply doze in the winter sun for an hour or two.

That infusion of warmth and well-being is the sweetest indulgence I can imagine and I treat myself every weekend.