I think there is some kind of unspoken rule about writers and their cats, because an unusually high proportion of us seem to have them. Which means, at least in my case, sharing our workspaces with furry little dictators. Between racing each other for my chair every time I happen to get up, and the spare litter box in the corner that they only seem to use when they feel I’ve accomplished enough for the day, I have this weird feeling that my office is really theirs, and I’m lucky they let me work here.
“You weren’t actually planning on READING these, were you, Mom?”
At least I haven’t had this problem since I got the new flatscreen.
To make things extra interesting, Jagular has recently acquired the habit of flopping over on the chair mat with at least one paw less than an inch from the wheels. Since my desk is a U and I tend to scoot around between surfaces several times an hour, I’m starting to get a neck kink from checking the floor every time I need to move.
What about you? How do your pets like to “help” you work?