Oh, You Wanted to Sit Here? Or, Let Sleeping Cats Lie

After a long day, I like to sit down around 9pm with a good book and read until I can no longer stay awake. Most nights this is accomplished without interference or complications.

Last evening was not most nights. The room was a bit chilly, and the reading light radiated enough heat to warm the largest of feline bodies in the house (about 18 pounds worth).

Downyflake is, Anne McCaffrey informed me, an orange Maine Coon Cat. Not uncommon according to Ms. McCaffrey. What she didn't know, is that Downyflake is called Downyflake for a reason. He's quite timid. Normally, when I walk towards the sofa to sit, he jumps down as if afraid I might land on him and crush his head.

Last night was the exception to the rule. He and I discussed the dilemma for several moments. That is me talking, him sleeping, or feigning sleep hoping I'd go somewhere else.

Finally, he peeled open his eyelids and squinted in my direction as if to plea for mercy. With a stifled groan, I carefully lifted the pillow so he wasn't disturbed, propped it up against the sofa back, and sat in a rather uncomfortable position.

Naturally, as soon as I settled in, he decided he was hungry, slowly climbed down, stretched and walked out of the living room. . .tail high, of course. Sigh!