It’s dark and quiet. I feel the warm pillow against my cheek and suddenly the paws and weight of a cat stepping on my left calf, wobbling a little, then slowly balancing on my leg all the way up to my back. Then the weight is gone. Instead I feel paws digging at my arm as if they were trying to dig a tunnel. “Meooow!” More digging. “Meow!”
I roll on my back, away from the digging and open my eyes. Finley hops with a purr and sits at the end of the bed like a statue with her tail perfectly curled around her feet – watching me. I slowly sit up, bracing myself to sprint, then whisper “Let’s go!”.
Finley shoots off the bed and out of the bedroom alongside me. We sprint all the way to the other side of the house where her food bowl sits on the dining nook tile. When I’m done scooping food in the dish, she starts eating with the sort of noise you would only expect to hear from pigs.
Once she is done alternating chewing and meowing and pushing her head against my hand she runs off to make the most of her day. She rolls around on the living room carpet and watches birds outside the bathroom window and finds boxes to climb in and various places to nap in of course.
Some days I enjoy being in the moment with her. Other times I am there with my camera, ready to catch it.