She sniffs my fingers, runs her jaw against the edge of my notebook and gives me one more wild look before having a seat on my thighs. She is 15lbs of warm fur an oh-so inquisitive eyes that watch me move a strange looking stick across this hard-edged thing I won’t put down. I wonder what she thinks about while I sit and write in bed, not napping like she will soon be. I suppose she likes that I don’t move when I write, unlike in sleep.
Every so often I reach out a hand to gently scratch her behind the ears. Yes, I see you peeking over the top of my notebook. When it comes down to it, you and I are silent companions looking for reassurance and comfort in this strange world.