A Cat in the Lap
edited: Thursday, December 14, 2006
By Kimberley E Freeman
Not "rated" by the Author.
Posted: Thursday, December 14, 2006
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How cats help with the writing process--especially when they're large and sleeping on your lap.
Now that I have a new, wider desk chair, my tubby cat is hopping back into my lap, snoozing happily as I work on my latest novel.
Itís nice to have a writing companion again, and it's wonderful to reach down and stroke that orange and white fur when I get stuck--or tempted to get a "Procrastination Snack" from the fridge. There's something about a contented, sleeping cat I just can't bear to disturb.
It's a good deal for both of us, really: I keep him company and he keeps me in the chair.
His name is Purr, and from the day I got him, we struck a deal: the desk is off limits, but the lap is okay. He's very polite about asking, too. He ambles over, tail in the air, then sits down by my chair, waiting for me to glance over at him. If I meet his eyes, then look down at my lap, thatís his invitation. He leaps up, landing lightly every time, perfectly balanced and proud of himself.
Purr is large--a 15 pounder--so arranging all of his bulk into this limited space is not a simple task. Sometimes he takes a moment, deciding which angle might work best, but usually he just stands, waiting for me to scoop him into position.
Itís a lovely ritual and a delight to have his warm, purring heft on me as I type. When I need a break, I stop writing and turn him upside down for the full throat and chest massage he loves so much.
Here, he extends his furry white neck, and the little tips of his fangs peek out, so he looks like a snaggle-tooth alligator. When he makes little starfish paws in the air and tiny drops of drool form in the corner of his pink lips, I know he is in a state of bliss.
Last night was the first chilly night of the year and I had just finished a load of laundry: a heavy blue cotton throw and several pairs of sweat pants. I dropped them all into the deep bottom drawer of my serpentine dresser and walked back into the kitchen to answer the phone.
When I returned, still talking on the phone, there was my tubby little cat, nested in the drawer on the fresh, warm clothes from the dryer.
He couldnít have been asleep yet, but he sure made a convincing show of pretending.
After all, he knows I'd never disturb a sleeping cat.
Web Site: A Cat on MY Keyboard
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|Reviewed by Jennifer Butler
|Very sweet thoughts. Although our cat was born in our house, and our family has always kept pets, I have learned that we cannot make them happy, and they are often in danger because of our inability to communicate with them. I have decided that it is best to keep a bird feeder with water and a bird house rather than to have pets. Then we are assured that we do not interfere or enter fear in their lives.|
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|My tabby, old Buddy, also loves to perch on my lap while I'm working on the computer. I think they do provide great 'writing vibes.'|