How to Work With a Purrsonal Assistant
Let’s be honest: It’s not going to be easy
You sit on the couch, all cozy with your laptop. Your cup of coffee is steaming, you have your favorite snack, and your muse is with you.
You’re busily tapping away on the computer, the ideas are flowing, and then your cat appears. He’s looking up at you from the carpet, with that earnest look upon his face, and you see it coming before it happens. He leaps up on the couch, and then sneakily climbs upon your lap, wedging his plump furry body between you and your keyboard.
You try to move him off of you.
“Sit beside me,” you say. “You can be my purrsonal assistant.” You smile at your little pun.
But he’s not having any of it. He has no desire to help. He climbs back on you, turns around a few times to get comfortable, and rests with his face on your arm and his butt way too close to your face.
“Not now,” you say, but his purr is like a locomotive, and he’s got that blissful, snuggly look in his eyes. You know, without a doubt, that he’s going to win, and your writing is going to lose. This is the life of a writer with a cat.
You spend the next few moments trying to adjust the cat, or your computer, to get something done. But he won’t budge. To make matters worse, he’s lying directly on top of your bladder. And he’s as happy as he can be. You are his purrsonal purring station.
How do writers get anything done with a snuggling cat?
Time is passing by and he snuggles closer. Meanwhile, the battery is running out on your computer. You are thirsty, but you can’t grab the coffee. Your ideas are flying out the window. And nature is calling! And yet, he still lies there, oblivious to your dilemma.
This is ridiculous. You must take control. There must be a way to make him want to get off your lap. So you fidget. You shift your position. His response: a cat snore.
You need to show this cat you’re the boss. “Enough,” you say. And you push him gently off your lap. He turns and blinks his eyes at you. He’s hurt. He slinks away.
“Come back,” you say, “I’m sorry.” But he is emotionally wounded and insulted and leaves the room. Now your coffee is cold, you forgot what you were writing about, and you’re feeling guilty because you ruined his cat nap.