Day 127

Prompt: pets.

 

The couch is cold as I sink into it, pulling a blanket over me as I crack open a book: Fish Preferred by P.G. Wodehouse. I marvel at the language, at his light tone, reading it as if this is the first time instead of the hundredth. I’m half a chapter in when I feel the couch shift the slightest, reaching my hand out instinctively for Sofie to rub her face against. She purrs as I scratch her ears, climbing onto my lap. I raise the book up, letting her slip beneath it and curl into a ball.

We stay still, soft chuckles from me with each new antic Wodehouse puts on the page and quiet, steady purring from her. She warms my lap, sending me into a lull, making me yawn and shake my head to stay awake. In the end, I fail, dozing off with my head resting on the back pillows. Cats have that cozy effect.

I doze for maybe half an hour, a soft nap that doesn’t leave me exhausted when I wake. Sofie is sound asleep, a little tabby ball I feel I can’t move. She looks so cute and comfortable, I rationalize. How could I move her?

A chapter of Wodehouse later and my legs start to cramp from the position, forcing me to gently lift the blanket and place her on the couch while I get up. She peeks at me lazily, a soft meow in protest, closing her eyes again only after I pet her. It’s a short-lived nap for her as I head into the kitchen, washing my hands and getting ready to make dinner. She pads in softly, sitting expectantly by the pantry as I pull out her food bowl.

“Yes, yes, I know. Dinner time for you, too.”

She waits, patient as always, meowing only when I’m halfway to setting the bowl on the ground, a short interruption to her near-constant purr.

To have a cat is a cozy life.

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