The fat black and white cat is back in my yard this morning. There isn't enough sunshine for her usual lolling on the glider, but she's amusing herself as only cats can. She prances across the grass in her seesaw imitation of a tiger, chasing some puny flying bug; under the bushes and out of my line of sight, except for her black tail. It twitches in that feline way that means something is in trouble and better watch out. In this case, puny flying bugs everywhere, beware!
While the neighbor cat is stalking in the yard, one of my own cats is helping me type, as he likes to do. He notices the computer and all those pesky buttons that I seem to want to push. He helps by pushing them himself, usually with his butt. His two cents look something like: 111111111111qqqqq32222222ssssssss. What he lacks in coherence he makes up for in speed. I have sometimes inadvertently had his help with Google searches. Before I notice that he's helping, Google tells me "There are no results for queen size sheets zzzzzzzzccccccaafaaaaafacccst. Did you mean queen size sheets cafe fest?" If there is a central file of all the Google searches I've ever done, I must look like I have real anger control issues.
This cat also likes to lie on my lap while I'm typing. Let's face it, in his pea brain, this is actually his chair so he sees me as a handy extra chair layer that is conveniently warm. I'm his Audi with heated seats. He's big and drapes off my lap like a very heavy afghan. Maybe an afghan stuffed with salami, or rolls of quarters, or a medium size dog. This cat is heavy! So my left hand is occupied with supporting his head off to the left of my lap. While I'm providing all this seat warming and head holding, I have to type with my right hand sans the benefit of my left. This results in a whole lot of emails that look like I'm just too cool to bother with capital letters and way too busy for anything but a cursory response. This is the closest I'll ever get to tweeting. I receive long, chatty emails from friends telling me their emotional ups and downs, their personal travails, that their father died, their marriage may break up, then generously asking me how I am, what's new with me, and could I possibly get together soon because they really need someone to talk to and I answer them: "ok sonds gd when"
It's a cat thing.
While the neighbor cat is stalking in the yard, one of my own cats is helping me type, as he likes to do. He notices the computer and all those pesky buttons that I seem to want to push. He helps by pushing them himself, usually with his butt. His two cents look something like: 111111111111qqqqq32222222ssssssss. What he lacks in coherence he makes up for in speed. I have sometimes inadvertently had his help with Google searches. Before I notice that he's helping, Google tells me "There are no results for queen size sheets zzzzzzzzccccccaafaaaaafacccst. Did you mean queen size sheets cafe fest?" If there is a central file of all the Google searches I've ever done, I must look like I have real anger control issues.
This cat also likes to lie on my lap while I'm typing. Let's face it, in his pea brain, this is actually his chair so he sees me as a handy extra chair layer that is conveniently warm. I'm his Audi with heated seats. He's big and drapes off my lap like a very heavy afghan. Maybe an afghan stuffed with salami, or rolls of quarters, or a medium size dog. This cat is heavy! So my left hand is occupied with supporting his head off to the left of my lap. While I'm providing all this seat warming and head holding, I have to type with my right hand sans the benefit of my left. This results in a whole lot of emails that look like I'm just too cool to bother with capital letters and way too busy for anything but a cursory response. This is the closest I'll ever get to tweeting. I receive long, chatty emails from friends telling me their emotional ups and downs, their personal travails, that their father died, their marriage may break up, then generously asking me how I am, what's new with me, and could I possibly get together soon because they really need someone to talk to and I answer them: "ok sonds gd when"
It's a cat thing.
You know of course that if you didn't hold his head, he would find another way, right? But as all us animal lovers do, you go the extra to make him comfortable, even at our own inconvenience.
ReplyDeleteWE ARE ALL FURNITURE TO OUR PETS.
I would comment at length but there is a cat sitting on my left hand.
ReplyDeleteGood job with the caps and punctuation, drgoodman.
ReplyDeleteha ha - The cat is once again sleeping on my left hand. I just spent a half hour writing a short paragraph someone needed from me by this evening. I'm getting pretty good at one-handed typing! Capital 'I' is tricky with pinkie & index finger. But I don't want to disturb the kitty, so...
ReplyDeleteDon't let go of the head! Never let go of the head!
ReplyDeleteI have a cat on the back of the couch, hanging over my shoulder, and a dog on either side of me. Gotta love our animals and their quirks.
ReplyDeleteYou have animal accessories.
ReplyDelete