Few things make me feel more like a teenage boy than brushing my cat.
I say "just relax and let it happen"
And she says "I don't know"
And I say "I'll take care of you"
And she says "That feels kind of good".
I all "lay down"
She's all "I don't know"
She's all "Let me put it in my mouth first"
I'm all "go ahead, get comfortable with it"
She's all *bite*
I'm all "hey there, not so rough"
She all *licks me a little bit to let me know she's sorry*.
I'm so "roll over on your back"
She's so "no, I don't think so"
She's so "I'm not ready for that"
She's so "well okay"
I'm so "you are a good girl"
She's so "don't touch me there"
I'm so "I'm sorry it won't happen again".
Then it happens again and she lets it happen.
I go "you're so beautiful"
I go "I love you"
She writhes around.
Then there's a noise from somewhere downstairs and she's all *jump*
And I'm all "It's okay baby, it's probably nothing"
And she can't relax again
And I get awkward
Maybe doing it a little too hard
A little too purposeful
And she runs away
And I'm left there, all by myself, holding it in my hand.
In this case, "it" is the brush, of course.