Almost every morning that I start off the day at the computer, Molly the Cat saunters into the office. She acts nonchalantly, ignoring me at first. She goes around the room, rubbing her body against the doorway, the chair legs, and whatever else may be in her path. Then she stops beside my chair. I know what's coming next.
Molly struts back and forth before me. She doesn't care if she has interrupted my writing, my scrolling, my whatever-I-am-doing on the computer.
"Come on, Molly. Let me click this link." I reach under her body to the keyboard.
"Just don't step on the keyboard." Ha! She will if she wants.
Purrrrrrrrrrrrrr. She rubs her head on the edge of the printer, along the pencils in the cup, the umbrella plant that stretches toward the desk, and everything else she wants to mark. Like she hasn't already.
Molly also wants me to pet and hug her to her heart's content. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Okey-dokey with me. Most mornings.
Okay, all mornings.
This morning was no different. Well, except, I starting singing while I petted her. The purring stopped. Her ears went up, as in Danger-Danger ready mode. She looked at me with pained eyes. I stopped singing. She relaxed. I sang, continuing to stroke Molly. Her ears pricked up again. She turned her head away from me. She looked like she was wondering if she ought to jump off the table. I stopped singing. She turned her head back to me. I sang. She turned away.
"Molly doesn't like me to sing," I said to the Husband, as he walked into the office.
Molly looked at the Husband as if to say, "Save me. Tell her to stop. She's loud and off-key."
The Husband already knows that. The first time he heard me sing, he told me I was tone deaf. That was 21 years ago. He says these days I can stay on key a lot more.
I sang some more. Molly jumped off the desk and walked (at least she didn't run) out of the office.
Well. Golly gee.