Debbie Does Drivel

Poor Kev.
I am so all over him mentally, emotionally, physically, and psychically.
He is like my puppy, whom I never tire of petting.
To me, it is like a game. I say and do silly things to drive home the point that he is my "bubby."
Like today, I called him on his cell phone, and sang (to the tune of "Good Morning" on "Singin' in the Rain"):

"Hi bubby, hi bub-by,
Hi bubby, buuu-ubby
Hi Bubby, hi bubby-y-y-y-y-y"

Then there is the ever-popular:
"Bubby bubby, bo-bubby, banana-fana fo-fubby
Fe Fi Fo bubby
Bub-by!"

At other times, I will launch myself across the room when he first walks in the front door and attach myself to his body for a huge (one-sided) hello hug.
Then, still other times, I will kiss his cheek in a chicken-pecking motion, whereby he gets about 2,003 kisses in one sitting. Sometimes I will puncutate the kisses with questions like, "How'd you get to be so sweet? Do you remember the day when you became so sweet?" and other such nonsense.

If he happens to be watching TV, I will full-frontal hug him and put my cheek on his cheek, thereby pushing his head into an unnatural angle where he cannot -- no matter how he may try -- resume TV watching.

I don't know how I became so demanding! I think it is because we had a puppy growing up and there were four of us kids -- and I never got as much time with the dog as I wanted...so I'm releasing all this built-up affection.

And the thing is:
Kev lets me do it. He just kind of sits there and lets me mold his body into poses which are pleasing to me, like wrapping both of his arms around me, etc.
He never says a word. Just kinda sits there, blankly staring, as I pet him to death.

Poor thing.