Ginger

She stares at me, her big brown eyes now fluttering in the sunlight. Outstretched her paws lay on the warm carpet. Opposite me in a small cramped room, she lays grooming herself on the spot as the blue walls surrounding her are set light by the sun. The malting fur floats in the air, landing on the tip of my nose and the.... Oh, I forgot again. I sigh as I am snapped back into reality. Awaiting on twenty or so emails, barely passing deadlines for different projects. I steadily lift my hand to reach for my pen, resisting the temptation to look at my awfully weird cat. I glance across the room again, just to see two big brown eyes staring back at me, “Ginger,” I sigh as I make my way across the room and over to her. She purrs as I stroke her soft fur and tickle her hairy chin. She rolls over onto her back her face half hidden with her paw. Almost too cute to resist. Yet again I find myself sighing and making my way back to my desk, being neither an active nor passive procrastinator. But instead just distracted by a furry mammal, with sharp teeth and ginger fur to match her name. My eyes are lined with fatigue, probably because I've had little to no sleep. Every day waking up an hour earlier only to get the same amount of work completed as the day before. I blame Ginger, although I know it's not her fault. The innocent cat yet again stares at me with eyes as big as moons, but I try my best to carry on. Even after another ten minutes, I have only managed to wright another two words. I daydream into the lunch hours and as I realise what I'm doing I panic. Another two whole hours wasted, with Ginger on my lap solely because she expects lunch. I hesitatingly open a can of cat food, the foul smell making me feel nauseous but ginger hungry. My next ten minutes are spent observing, watching her eat and slurp the tins continence. Her pink tongue not missing a single drop of residue left, until finally she is finished. She walks away from her bowl, prancing, one foot in front of another, as if she is in a catwalk, yet ironically, she kind of is. Again, I hurriedly make my way back to my desk realising the time. its 1 o’clock. Only another nine hours till my project is due, the same project I have only managed to wright one sentence on. As the clock in the background goes “tick tock, tick tock...” gradually getting louder and louder. 2 o’clock, my mind appears to be in a different world where cats can speak, I am unaware of my surroundings and of my time. One paragraph is all, all I've written for the past hour, as Ginger forces herself onto my lap. My cold hands stroke her warm coat of fur as she stretches out and relaxes, oh how I envy her. I scratch the top of her head in repetitive circles only to push her off my lap and carry on working again. I reach for my pen again and continue the slow process of a handwritten essay, the ink flowing from my pen what seemed like simultaneously. Until then, 3 O’clock, my 3-page essay nowhere close to complete. Barely one page written, the words in a jumble unable to make sense. I find my hearts comfort in front of me, as Ginger plays with her squeaky toy mouse, on every tap of her paw it makes a noise. As if a real live mouse was before her. I laugh in content, the odd little creature in front of me looks so innocent in the sunlight as she continues to pounce onto the stuffed toy. I am almost consumed by the adorable mannerisms of this cat, but then I sigh. “I forgot” I whispered to Ginger, “again.” I disappointedly continue into the miserable wording of my thirdly finished essay. The deadline closing in on me as I panic, Gingers sweet gestures no longer come to my avail as my hands pick up pace and continue rapidly jotting words down. The discombobulated text makes no sense even to my eyes, as I frown in disappointment. My stress lines becoming clearer and clearer and the deadline becoming closer and closer. With only three hours left I seem to have no time for my precious cat although her beaming eyes look deeply saddened as I ignore her. “sorry,” I explain “I have to finish this.” and with that I continue for a good minute... only a minute, however. Seeing as the second I begin to focus I can see her in the corner of my eye, constantly walking around in circles. As if looking for a sorce of entertainment, or a way to catch my attention. Luckily enough for her it was working but as I desperately tried to resist temptation, I was forced to surrender. “Aww, Ginger” I exclaimed gently stroking her fur. I knew I didn't have much time left but regardless, I continued petting her soft lion like mane. Her gentile ginger fur malting in the sunlight. The eager brown chestnut eyes almost speaking to me saying “stay with me, please” but I know I can’t. One hour left as the randomised selection of words on my paper are redrafted again and again, beginning to form a short and simple passage. Leaving me with one eye on the paper and one on the passage. Forty-five minutes remaining as the frantic countdown continues, I beg myself not to look anywhere near Ginger and somehow, I manage to contain the cuteness trapped inside of her. Well at least for fifteen minutes. I convince myself that it's a well-earned break however the time is limited with only half an hour left. I somehow feel relieved though and laugh as Ginger eats the chicken tasting cat treats out of the palm of my hand. With only ten minutes left I sigh and sit back at my desk, I pick up the pen and begin to wright my three-page essay, now to be almost the hundredth draft yet written in only ten minutes.