My cat is indignant. Right now he's over eating his food and sulking.
See, this is my writing morning. I have about 200 words to do before I can hop into the shower and then wake my son for school.
But Tyre - named after a goodlooking gunslinger in the movie Silverado - really REALLY wants to be petted.
So he does things like...
He walks over my laptop - I plop him on the floor.
He lays on my hand - I plop him on the floor.
Pretty soon he starts nudging items onto the floor. There goes my Kindle, a clean spoon (I write on my kitchen table now), an empty bottle, a pencil, ARG
He's on the edge of the table, right next to my computer. He's touching me with his paw over and over. So, I take him in my arms, and he puts his paws around my neck. He really does. And, he buries his head under my chin (time for wet nose and cat slobber).
I pet him and hug him and put him gently on the floor, thinking all the while that I should pet him longer, hug him longer, because I miss the days when my son woke up and toddled from his bedroom right to my lap - just like the cat drawing me away from the computer.
Thank you God for cats, and kids, and husbands who remind me that I can't write about life if I don't live it.
Oh, I'm off to wash the cat slobber from my neck and wake the kid. No time for the shower EW
Those two hundred words... I'll do them while I eat lunch.