Thursday, 28 July 2011

The Trouble with Cats

Many of you have experienced the frustrations of being a writer. The constant distractions the outside world provides.  The lethargy we seem to experience at the thought of starting a new project, or editing an existing one.  Some of us have that wonderful little voice in our head, that driving thought or idea that will make us sit down and get to work. But once we have overcome the slothfulness and put aside the shiny distractions of TV and internet, there are more obstacles still. I do not speak of writer’s block. That can be taken down with the sturdy sledgehammer of careful thought. No, I speak of a far greater foe.

I experienced this yesterday. No sooner had I sat down at my computer, when along strolls Peaches, my feisty calico, who quite suddenly has a penchant for Earl Grey tea. Without so much as a by- your- leave, she sticks her furry face inside my tea cup and begins lapping up the contents within.  My outraged noises and shooing motions don’t bother her in the least, and she drinks her fill. Grumbling, I turn back to my work.

Soon she attempts to flop down on my keyboard, making appreciative purring noises that probably translate roughly into, “Aaah, lovely. I can warm my belly on the keyboard and piss her off in one go.”  I shove her off and she flops over onto my papers like a limp noodle, and then proceeds to roll around on her back, paws in the air, on top of all of my papers, purring and drooling. Thoroughly impatient by now, I hiss at her, much the same way a crazy person would, and she gives me a disapproving stare.

Briefly there is drama, when Addie, the Great Dane pokes his giant head and shoulders into the doorway and my cries of “No dogs in libraries!” mingle with Peaches outraged growls. She jumps from the desk and menaces him, until he backs himself out of the room, staring at us woefully as he retreats. I look blankly at the screen once all is silent again. Where was I?

Peaches is now off in the corner, playing the mighty hunter. She makes odd burbling noises as she stalks an intruding moth across the window sill.

I get one or two words written and then she’s back, like a recurring nightmare, head butting my arm, demanding I acknowledge how cute she is.        
Yes, damn it, you’re very cute.   
She drapes herself over my shoulder like a large, fuzzy parrot and purrs at top volume right in my ear, determined that if I’m going to do anything at all, it had better involve petting and adoring her.  I ignore her, and she returns to her rolling and drooling, scattering my papers across the desk. Alas, she rolls too enthusiastically and falls off the edge of the desk with a crash, scattering the papers and taking several books with her. Whoever said cats were graceful?  I laugh unkindly and she glares at me in embarrassment, stalking out of the room in a huff. 

                At last, the tyrant is gone and I am free to write! Now, I’ll just quickly check Facebook….

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