Routine Satisfaction

Since she won't let me lay on the keyboard I have found satisfaction in laying on the printer...they still both seem to humm but at least she does not annoy me all the time to get down from the printer.  I even found a way to turn it on after I convinced her that it was unnecessary to keep all this fresh and unmarked paper on top of all the buttons.  But she caught me right away.

I wanted to let you know, Sabine, that I have had great delight in getting her into my routine.  It starts with my sleeping solidly in the crook of her legs or on her hip (more on this later) and not letting her move unless I say it is alright. 

When she does awake, I ensure she does not disturb me and slips very carefully out from under the scrumptious feather doona/coverlet.  Then she takes her shower and by the time she is finished I am waiting outside the bathroom door impatiently waiting till she opens it and finishes getting dressed.

Then I escort her to the kitchen where she cleans out my bowls, washes them carefully, while I sit on the counter supervising her technique.  I must admit she is almost as good at this pre-preparation task as you are.  However, she does not choose the food I desire and sometimes I just will not eat the canned food she leaves me...hoping it will hurt her heart to pity and she will stress and try to find something I WILL eat.  Although this technique seemed to only work the first couple of times, much to my chagrin!

Then she fiddles with that big silver machine in the corner of the counter and seems to regard this frothy cup filled with whatever as a real treat (cappuccino).  She takes it with her and places it on one of those little round things (coaster) on your desk and thinks she is going to write.  Well she should KNOW better. 

So I mew a few times to distract her and she looks all worried (I do love that look), backs up from the keyboard and pats her lap and asks me stupidly, "Do you want to come up and sit here?"  As if that was rocket science or something!  Of COURSE she needs to be petting me.

Once I've worn out her petting patience and she is all soft and cuddly and warm from my wonderful attention, I jump down and leave her wondering.  But I jump down because it is my play time.  I come back and forth into the study and keep mewing and letting her know that she must stop that silly clacking on those keys and come chase me!

Eventually she gets the picture and we play hide and seek for awhile till she tells me *I* am silly!  What a laugh it is to watch her racing around and trying to hide behind doors and walls thinking I, the king of the beasts in this house, cannot find her.  It is great fun and honestly she does a good job of hiding sometimes, I must admit.

Then I must nap.  By this time, the sun may be streaming in the front room windows and I work out on the lamb's wool rug till I drift off to dream land.  I awake an hour or so later and sniff at my dish and then go and see why she is still tapping on the keys.

Then I start my real push for obedience.  Even if it is freezing (her term, not mine, of course) outside, I drive her nuts till she opens Miglio's sliding glass doors to the balcony.  When it is cold she doesn't want to open it because she feels she need to leave it open for my pleasure and she does, but she tells me she will not do this because it is way too cold outside now.  It matters little to a properly determined kitty, so I pester her till I get my way and she puts on a coat and bemoans the fact that she does not have gloves!

Of course, I only sit out there for a few minutes because it IS cold outside and so I sit inside in the doorway, taking in the warm sun rays and smiling, knowing she does not know the door can now be closed.  She is so funny looking with the coat and socks and scarf on when she finally realises she can close the door.

Then I make her feel guilty for closing the door and am so amused at her lecture about keeping me healthy and how she loves me.  She is sort of cute sometimes.  But now I want more play time with her and she always goes back to tapping the keys, so I jump on the desk and fiddle around with everything there and in my own good time make her stop and I crawl into her lap, where I will stay for a good while.  Then I jump down and curl up on the convenient beanbag chair she has brought into the office since the first day she was here, so I can be near her and warm as I rest from all my activities. 

She must get up a few times while I sleep but when I wake I want her to go and sit someplace else and start a campaign to get her moving in the direction I want her in and she turns on that big box in the front room and sits in your chair and I sit in her lap for however long I can get her to stay there.  She takes breaks to get tea and snacks (which I must report she does not share with me). 

And then will get up to fiddle in the kitchen with something that she takes to the table and I watch her consume, looking as pitiful as possible, so she is always wondering if I eat table scraps at the table and of COURSE I would never do that! 

Then she washes up the dishes and polishes the kitchen to her satisfaction and sits back in your chair to read.  She has been reading a very thick book and because I insist on sitting in her lap she cannot rest it on her knees.  I can tell her arms get tired and I just smile my best Cheshire Cat imitation smile as she shifts the book from hand to hand. 

She must pet me often and is well trained to do this and so eventually I wear her out and she asks me if I'm tired and would like to go to bed.  By now my eyes are closed and it is every man for himself.  But of course she can't sleep in the chair so disturbs me to get up and get ready for bed and then crawls under the covers with that book still in her hand. 

I insist on sitting in her lap while she gets tired and eventually puts the book down and is puzzled as to how she is going to slip down into the bed properly without disturbing me.  And she has tried some endearing ways, but so far I just look at her with disgust and move slowly off her lap and wait till she turns out the light and arranges herself in the bed and I hear that last, "Are you alright, mighty Oscar?" 

Then I make my move for the spot of my choice and fall asleep beside her, always dreaming of you and catching birds and you and catching mice and you and eating more carved beef and you and of course Miglio, who I miss so much.  I sense you will be home soon..../me smiles.