Squeak Logic
Sunday, January 27th, 2008When I’ve blogged about my animals it’s mostly been about Emma. I’m not sure why. Much as I love her, the cats and I are bonded much closer. We’ve got a lot more history.
Maybe that’s part of it. Tales about TJ and Squeak have tails, that reach back a dozen years. Emma’s been with us just going on four. Her stories are simpler.
Anyway, I was just sitting and going through my morning ritual of trying to get my brain to come on, always a significant undertaking. Currently it consists of doing some joint-mobilization moves and exercises, which I’d done, and then sitting on the couch drinking cocoa and reading Terry Pratchett Discworld novels.
Squeak, whose real name is Mia Antoinette, Red for Short (that’s all her name; no one’s ever called her “Red” for any reason whatsoever. See what I mean about backstory?) appeared on the back of the sofa at my left shoulder. She’s a gleaming black cat with auburn undercoat and a few stray white hairs which she’s always had, and eyes that range from amber to baleful yellow-green. She’s also a bit porky. She’s basically a black Siamese.
Anyway, she started dabbing tentatively at my left shoulder. This means she wants to lie on my chest and be cuddled. The problem was she couldn’t find an angle she liked to get into that position. Fortunately she’s not inclined to just launch herself and hope things settle out, which would almost certainly end in my getting numerous thin cuts sliced down my chest and belly by her claws.
So I picked her up and put her on my chest. At which, naturally, she put her ears back and bitched me right out. Then she settled down and began to purr happily.