Courtyard in Venice, William Degouves de Nuncques
43,268, Loose Daddy. The pen has not been doing much drifting ’cause I have not had anything to say this week. But just now I was thinking about my cat Levi, a young tiger stripe male, about 5+ years younger than my other cat Taffy. Every morning when I sit down at the Mac to write, Levi, fifteen pounds of fur and mini-scythes aka claws, climbs into my lap. He’s your stereotypical aloof cat until I sit down to write. Apparently he’s decided that Taffy can queen it over the bed (and me too when I’m in it), but when Mom sits at the writing desk he gets to layabout in her lap and fan his tail beneath her nose and walk on the keyboard.
He purrs loudly, knocks his head against my chin, tucks his face into my elbow, kneads his claws into my thighs, (decides my arm is a chew toy) and generally turns into what Devon calls a velcro kitty. I spend part of my writing time gently placing him on the floor and enduring his wide-eyed stare of betrayal–before he hops back into my lap. We go through this every morning.