Saturdays are the days when I get my rough drafts written. Not the entire rough draft, mind you. More like a really thorough outline. It’s my time to sit down and get all the thoughts in my head out so that I can worry about adding in detail later.
That was my plan for this morning. I had settled into my favorite chair. I had a cinnamon-sugar bagel and the sun was just coming in the window to keep my feet warm as I wrote.
The cat figured this was an excellent time to purr in my ear.
There is a table near the desk where I work. A spot has been cleared away for the cat. It is just large enough to fit his rather impressive tabby colored bulk. He had jumped up there with feline silence while I nibbled on my bagel. Having been ignored he shoved his nose near to my ear and purred at me.
What’s a writer to do? I started off by giving him a cursory scritch on the side of his chin. He lifted his head and nudged my hand with genuine affection. I found myself thinking about cats in general and why I prefer their company to that of dogs.
I found myself thinking about greymalkins and how they are seriously underutilized in the stories of fae and faerie. The feline took advantage of my deep thoughts and snuck into my lap. How a ten pound feline sneaks is beyond me but he did.
Once he was there he began to purr and flopped over against my thighs looking up at me with those big green eyes. He stretched out his neck in the hopes of receiving more scratches. I acquiesced. Thus the next two hours were spent petting a cat and reading a book.
Not a bad way to spend a Saturday (caturday?) morning.
To my future editor (should I ever have one) I am sorry if I don’t meet my deadlines. I own cats.