Tracy's Typical Workday

I nudge Deanna's hands first, purring loudly because she seems to understand this means Request. Her eyes open. She pretends not to see me. She pulls her hands under the blanket and closes her eyes again.

I nudge her neck and cheek.

Her eyes are still closed when she says, "Tracy, it's too early."

I persist.

She strokes the fur on top of my head and behind my ears in an attempt to pacify me. I hop down and start leading the way to the kitchen.

She doesn't follow.

Five years, and I still haven't managed to train her to hunt for meals on my schedule.

I jump back up on her bed, purring and nudging her more.

"Tracy, no," she murmurs. "You have an automatic feeder. You'll get your breakfast at six o'clock." Deanna pulls her blanket right up to her chin and closes her eyes.

I stare at her intently, still purring. I slowly, tentatively lift one paw and very gradually place it on her cheek.

She laughs. She pets me from head to hip. I turn and she does it again.

"Settle back down for two minutes, will you?" she asked. "I'm not ready to be awake."

I hear the quiet whir of a small motor in the kitchen. I leap down. I make it in time to watch my kibble hit the bowl, like some sort of robotic cat sharing its kill.

It's about time! I eat.

Deanna's a dear, but really, she isn't at all good at being a cat. She'd be lost without me.

Waking her up is just the first example. Without me, she would only have the electronic bird strapped to her wrist, beeping annoyingly five mornings a week.

I also alert her to pests in the home. We don't get many beetles or carpenter ants, but if one wanders in, I'll be sure to yell for Deanna's attention. Then I stare at the offending insect until she moves it outside. I even handle house flies and moths on her behalf--but if I'm being honest, that's because she isn't fast enough to get them.

If I'm being even more honest, I actually enjoy the chase.

There's also the laundry.

Every week, Deanna removes her hamper of dirty laundry and the sheets from the bed. She takes them away. When she returns, she has a basket of clean laundry and fresh bedsheets. It's up to me to make sure the bed is made properly. I have to run around on the bare mattress as she puts down the fitted sheet. Then I run around on the fitted sheet as she puts down the top sheet. It's my responsibility to fight the comforter as she attempts to place it on top of the sheets.

She dumps out her basket of clean laundry on the bed and I perform my Quality Inspections. When the towels are fresh-smelling, soft, and warm from the dryer, I snuggle into them and purr. It's my way of letting Deanna know she did a good job.

Ungrateful cat. She usually shoo's me away and tells me not to get my fur on her clean laundry.

I do have one job that Deanna seems especially grateful for, though. I help her with her writing.

If she leaves her notebook open, I understand it as a polite request for my assistance. I do my part by sniffing it cautiously and stretching out on the page.

If she has her notebook or laptop on her lap, I'll find a way to perch near her shoulder. If her notebook/laptop is on her portable folding desk, I cuddle up on her lap instead. We can spend hours working this way.

When the Catting Hour strikes--that's what Deanna calls her exercise time, usually around nine or nine-thirty at night--I start dashing around the house and tackling feet. This is her cue to blow off a little steam before bed. She dangles toys for me to pounce on and wrestle. She leads me on The Hunt For The Red Dot. She secures salmon-flavored brushing bites in different places, so I can hunt them down inside my open carrier, in overturned cardboard boxes, on top of my perch, etc.

My last job of the day is honestly my favorite. I help Deanna settle down to sleep. Sometimes she lays on her back. I stretch out on her belly. My hindpaws rest on her thighs and my forepaws almost graze her neck. Usually, she settles down to sleep on her side. Then I can drape myself over her upper side, or curl up in the warm, cozy well the blanket makes by her belly. I spend the whole night on or beside her.

She keeps me pretty busy. She isn't anything special, I guess, but she's handy with a brush and gives good cuddles. I think Deanna and I work well together.

----------------

Check out the post-apocalyptic story Deanna wrote, inspired by Yours Truly!

And here's a link to the story you saw me lying down on top of: