Molly the Cat leads me out the front door before breakfast most mornings.
"Go see what needs to be done," she telepathically prompts me as she begins her patrol of the perimeter.
"No cats here," she sniffs. "Ooooh, ladybug."
I check out new flower seed sprouts, note what sprouts need to be thinned and where I might replant them, bend over and pull up weeds, and so forth and so on.
Sometimes the Molly's and my morning routine lasts a few minutes, especially when it's cold or rainy. "Forget this," says Molly when she quickly does an about-face several feet from the front door.
Other times, we're out there for an hour or so, weeding, planting, digging, watering and whatever this heart pleases. Now and then Molly circles me to make sure I'm doing a decent job.
What I like the most is looking up from my task and seeing Molly lying near by, eyes closed and body purring in the the sun bubbles. I feel like I'm doing the same.
There are those days when Molly patiently sits by the front door, urging me in her mews, "Come on, Lady, let's go in already. The Husband made coffee."