BabyDoll, The Baker

[Eighteenth in a series]

Having already said that BabyDoll never scratched me, while true, she did quite frequently poke the hell out of my stomach. Sharp needle points. Thankful I didn't wear knits much back then.

Ah, the things you miss. Memory-wise and the physical too. It has been several years since BabyDoll and I came out of bachelorhood and into my current life - married, with children, bipeds and quadripeds alike. And sadly, several years without BabyDoll on my chest making bread. Other than the sweetest purr in the world, she also had a knack for meowing while purring. Mwarw-purr. Mwarw-purr.

And since it had been so long since we'd taken a nap together, I'd truly forgotten about the sharpness of her claws. And those quiet afternoons.

Of sweet agony.