This is Oreo, my five-year-old cat. In this picture I was trying to write. She was curled up on my arm. And this was an improvement. Moments earlier she was walking across my keyboard. Threatening to highlight and delete freshly written material. Or simply fill my manuscript with the letter “Q”. She hasn’t explained the significance as of yet.
Oreo is one of three cats that I have at home. Our plan was to adopt a dog but our life style wasn’t a good match. So we adopted a cat and I realized that even though I tried to be a dog person, I’m a cat person. Even if my allergies disagree.
None of my cats are normal. Oreo is deaf, has no peripheral vision, and her nose isn’t the best. She’s a tiny little gal and a former stray. The smallest at home she’s still top cat. Her favorite past times, besides attacking my lap, are trying to escape, knocking cups over for water, and counter surfing even though she knows she’s not supposed to. She also is very demanding for scratches. She will stare at us and paw our noses until we give in and show some loving.
Anytime I set up to write on my laptop Oreo comes sauntering into the room. The first game we play is her trying to get into my lap, and me shielding the keyboard in a feverish attempt to preserve my manuscript. She’ll either sit on my laptop table, angling the laptop towards her. Or she’ll insist on curling up in my lap.
One of these days I’ll open up a fresh word document for her and see what she wants to write. If it’s any good I’ll share it with you.
I also have a three-year-old that likes to see me writing and start writing himself. It’s awfully cute until it interrupts my productivity. If you ever see a blog entry with the ABC’s and numbers you’ll know its my protégé taking a stab at this blogging thing.