About that bruise

There's been a mysterious bruise on my left breast. It's quite noticeable and big enough to peer out of my bra. I have had it all week, and it's only now beginning to fade ... a bit ... I think.

It's disturbing me because I can't, for the life of me, figure out what I hit that hard there. Did I walk into a door?

And, because it's my left breast, I was frightened that it may be something more serious. After all, a bruise is the pooling of blood under the skin. Could this be a return to the problems I had last summer?

Then it hit me. Literally. It's my cat, Reynaldo! Since I've been battling a bug of some sort, I've been more sedentary than usual. Spending Sunday and Monday, and every evening since, on the sofa. In the evenings, when Rey has his wild times, he interrupts his racing about to jump on my chest, look into my face, knead my boob for a while, and then leap up and off and return to his adrenaline-fueled adventures.

While this is kitten behavior -- checking in with "mommy" -- Rey-Rey is no longer a kitten. He'll be 6 years old this spring. A skinny cat, to be sure, but still an adult cat. So there's more power in those kneading paws than before.

And that bruise on my boob? It's Rey's pawprint.

Thanks to Snarkypants for the perfect illustration for this post.