by

Lorna K. Grant

(with a little help from Socks, the Cat)

 

Great.  Here she comes, straight for this comfortable chair and me.  Double great.  She has that maniacal writer’s gleam in her eye.  Her “muse” must be cooperative this afternoon.  Why my human depends on a mythical creature for inspiration when I’m right here is beyond me.  That “muse” is as fickle as that smooshed-faced kitten that runs around the house, thinking she owns the joint.

“Come on, Socks.  Move, baby, so I can sit down and write.”

Ugh.  I’m getting too old to be moving from the soft confines of this chair to the cold, hard floor.  Darn!  That dratted mutt is circling my human, looking for a place to sleep.  She always takes the blanket under the desk. 

Sigh.  Guess I’ll just curl up next to her feet.  Her so-called inspirational figure will depart as she normally does, and I’ll take over, as I usually do. 

What would she do without me?

The tap tapping of the keys has stopped and my human drums her claws on the desktop.  Not a good sign at all.  I suppose I’d better see if I can get her back on track. 

It’s worse than I thought.  She’s got that rollercoaster game going.  How am I suppose to give her inspiration and help if her concentration is on some silly game and not the task at hand?  These humans are such complex creatures.  Not at all like us cats.  We’re so simple and easy to get along with.  Well, I am at least.  Those other two cats are such nuisances and almost as brainless as that worthless creature wagging her stub of a tail under the desk. 

But I digress.  My human needs me.

I’ll just curl up on the paper strewn across the desk and paw through them.  Maybe I can find something she can use.  Hmmm.  Not bad, but it’s missing something.

“Socks, don’t play with my papers.  I had them organized.”

Hrumpf.  Like anything on this desk is organized!  It looks like a tornado blew through and left chaos in its wake; or maybe those other cats chased each other over the top of the desk.  It looks more like the messes they cause around here.  How can she work with all this clutter?  Books stacked on the floor; magazines and other tomes opened and piled on one another, marking pages to read; sticky notes stuck on the walls, desk and monitor; hand written memos scribbled on anything that holds ink; pictures of flying machines and maps taped to the wall.  Sigh.  It looks like the litter box after that princess of a kitten has visited it.

Good.  She’s turned off that game and returned to her writing.  But all she’s doing is staring at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keys.  What has her stuck and looking so disgruntled?

Hmmm.  Good.  Not bad.  Better.  That could use some work.  Scratch that.  What’s the problem here?  This isn’t so bad.

Oh, my!  If we cats could blush, I believe I would be doing so right about now! 

No wonder my human isn’t writing.  The mating ritual of these creatures is very complex, indeed.  How do they do it with all those arms and legs and no fur?  If they didn’t have all that lip touching and grooming and rolling around, it would be so much easier.  Humans are difficult, aren’t they?

Wait.  Now she’s turned on the music.  Hopefully this will help.  Oh, yes, there’s Sarah Vaughn belting out “’Round Midnight”.  What lovely sounds.  Perhaps she was a cat in a former life.  And now, the low and sultry tones of Miss Ella Fitzgerald pour from the speakers with “Come Rain or Come Shine”.

Yes!  Her fingers are flying over the keys and the words are materializing on the screen!

NO!  Don’t stop!  What are you doing?

Oh, okay.  You can stop to pet me if you wish.  I’ll allow it this time.  Just keep thinking about the story.  Are you stuck again?  Let’s take a look-see, shall we?

Good.  Good.  Funny.  A bit rough, here, I think.  Good.

“I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel,” Vicki purred.

Need a good come back line there, don’t we?  Let’s see, what would work?  The two female humans are acting like a pair of jealous cats fighting over a Tom.  And that Vicki character isn’t being too subtle about it, is she?

That’s it!  Now how do I get the idea across to my human?

Puuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr.

Darn!  All that’s doing is making her pet me.  Which I don’t mind, but we need to focus here!  What’s that noise?  We can’t be distracted from our work.

Great.  It’s that little she-devil of a kitten.  What is she doing lounging on top of the monitor, her fluffy tail twitching back and forth, like she’s the Queen of the Nile? 

Hiss!  Go away, you scrawny excuse for a cat!  Leave my human alone so she can work!  And leave my tail be!  It is NOT a toy!  Hiss!  Hrumpf!  That’s better.  Now maybe we can get something accomplished.

“That’s it!  Thank you, Socks.  I’ve got it now!”

Why, you’re welcome, but what did I do?  Not that I don’t mind taking the credit, but I have to make certain it’s worthy.

“And all the tact of a cat in heat,” Colleen muttered.

Why, yes.  I do believe I will take the credit for that little come back and stroke of brilliancy.  Well, I guess my job here is done.  I’ve accomplished my good deed for the day and now my human is busy at her keyboard, typing away as intense as that smooshed-faced kitten chases moths.

But I suppose I should stay close by--just in case my human needs a real muse.