This is Professor. He’s my first cat.
Honestly: part of my motivation to adopt a cat now in my life is my thinking that if I had a cat, I would stay home more, and if I stayed home more, I would write more.
Yes to the staying home part. But while at home, whole chunks of time pass as I just watch him eat, tickle him with a wand of colored strings, brush his fur, or just lie on the couch with him purring in my ear.
He’s a rescue cat from Bushwick: a family found him on their deck and took him, only to later find out he had FeLV and can’t live with other cats. He lived temporarily in a bass drum in a music studio while people emailed around, looking for a home for him.
He fits in nicely here. And I am able to get some writing done–even if it includes Professor sitting in my lap, paws on my wrist as my fingers jump across the keys. He doesn’t seem to mind the motion. Maybe, just maybe, he knows what I’m up to.
Word count: 721