That My Chair. Also, That My Chair.

I’m knee-deep in creationist textbooks. It takes bloody forever to get through a chapter because I have to constantly stop and look shit up. And I just found a copy of A Beka’s latest mangling of Earth science, so I’ll soon have more work to do. I’ll start posting the results in September for your entertainment/outrage, but for the moment, all I can give you is cat photos.

Misha has a very large porch, and lots of places on it. She has her pillow

Misha's lying on a white pillow on the porch.
Misha upon her pillow.

and her rug

Misha is lying on a multi-color rug on the porch.
Misha’s rug.

and under the new chair

Misha is lying underneath a turquoise patio chair with her tail wrapped around one of the legs.
Misha’s new chair.

and on the new chair.

Misha is sitting on a turquoise patio chair
Misha on the new chair.

But the spot she really wants at any given time is the chair I’m on, which at that moment was the lounge chair. Being a cat, she took partial ownership.

Misha at my feet, looking back and sniffing.
The bottom third of the lounger was now hers. She also wanted my bowl of cereal.

She purred hard enough when I sat back down with the cereal that she had the whole chair humming. Totes adorbs, so of course she got some of the milk. And when I went in for lunch, my chair was forfeit.

Misha sleeping peacefully in the middle of the lounger.
MY chair now.

She thought this entertaining until I sat down on the patio chair. Then it was no fun anymore, because I had a comfy chair, and she’s too old to jump up in my lap at that height. Also, the workers in the next apartment began making too much noise, so she buggered off.

I know, she’s spoiled rotten. At her age, she can have almost anything she wants. Including my chairs.

This is the best part about working from home. She’s still alert and active and curious and feisty. We get to spend nearly every moment together, while she’s still got good times left. I’ll miss her terribly when she’s gone. But at least I’ll have these moments to remember. We’ll squeeze a lot of good times out of these days. And she’ll always be part of me.

I’ll even have the scars to prove it, vicious wee beastie that she is.

That My Chair. Also, That My Chair.

9 thoughts on “That My Chair. Also, That My Chair.

  1. 1

    Cats definitely live by the toddler’s credo , “what is mine is mine, what’s yours is mine, whatever I lick (or sit on) is mine.”

  2. rq

    There’s no tricking them, either – when you want to fool them into sitting somewhere else, they know, and refuse to fall into such silly traps.
    Pretty kitty, you have.

  3. 4

    One of ours knows I spend a lot of time (too much time, actually) sitting in front of the computer. So when she sees me heading that way, she runs ahead, climbs up and over the back of the chair (because where’s the fun in simply jumping into the seat?) and in about three miliseconds is supremely comfortable. It’d be annoying if it wasn’t so dang cute. But since it cute, she gets petted before I pick her up and move her to the other chair.

  4. 6

    via Hitchens in a youtube video:

    “What’s the difference between cats and dogs? You shelter, feed, and love a dog and it thinks you are god. You shelter, feed, and love a cat and it thinks it is god.”

  5. rq

    So actually cats evolved to domesticate humans and train them into creating a life of comfort and sloth. I feel better about my purpose in life, now.

Comments are closed.