Pets of Peace and Work

“Oscar, move!” He sits on my keyboard like I haven’t said anything. The little turd, as cute as he is, begins to bother me. When he sees my agitation, he begins to purr.

I can’t stay mad at the kitty. He’s around six years old, and still delights in destroying the most recent chapter I created in my book. “Okay,” I say to him with a smile, “you may be right. I need to put something different in there.” At the kind words, he rubs his face on my hand, marking me with a little saliva, saying I am his.

That’s when my service dog approaches. She wants attention, as well. “Hi, Starling,” I say when she puts her head on my lap. “Do you need to go potty?” She stares at me, while my husband’s service dog, Lana, busts out of the kennel, tail flaying everything in her path. She even manages to hit herself in the face with her own tail. I laugh as I put on my shoes.

Lana runs up the stairs, Starling walks up them behind me, Oscar runs in-between my feet. He always seems to delight in attempted tripping. I do not think he understands my center of gravity is different from his.

Once at the portal to the outside, I order both dogs to sit. Starling’s short red-gold hair shines in the sunlight through the glass porch door. Lana’s darker stripe in the center of her back seems ever darker than normal when the light reflects off her sides. They are so beautiful, our lab/pit mixes that always have a smile for me.

When I open the door, Lana and Starling stampede out. The balcony shakes with their excitement. Oscar sprints from behind, running between my legs again. I chase him down the stairs, only to find him purring at the bottom step, looking back at me. It’s his game, “get mommy to think I’m escaping”. I laugh and pick him up. The pups do not hesitate to come back inside when a kitty gets attention, so I have no need to holler at them. They have done their business, now it's time for me.

I take the animals back inside, and find Corn, our other orange tabby cat, on the kitty tree. He sleeps through the hoop at the back, stretched out like an accordion, soft wheezes coming from his nose as he sleeps and snores. These cats had come from my mother’s farm, before I moved out of state with my love.

After grabbing a snack, I head down to my work again. The chapter is kind of weak, as Oscar pointed out, though I know he couldn’t read what I wrote. At least, I don’t think he could read. Animals would surprise you with what they can do.

A break was what I needed. I can write more this time, hundreds of words becoming thousands of words in the matter of hours, and I realize I haven’t stopped in a while. Starling is asleep next to me, under the desk on a doggy bed. She is warm under a blanket I don’t recall putting on her, but I know it had to have been me. My love is still sleeping. He’s had trouble with insomnia this week.

Oscar is back on my desk. He lifts a paw before walking over to the other side of my keyboard and trying to sit on my hand. What a jerk! What would he think if I tried to sit on him, in return? At least I would have clothes covering my nether-regions. Still, he’s cute. He wants attention. He’s the most attention-seeking cat I’ve ever known. That was one reason we picked him. He would walk over and do what we call a ‘scooter-plop’, which is how it sounds.

He plops down on the ground in front of us, and scoots and rolls around until we pet his belly. If we pet him too long, he sticks his claws in and nips us. Not enough, and he grabs our hands to pull them back down. I’ve had more kisses from that little kitty than I have all the other kitties in my life combined.

Okay, back to my work. I think I’m done writing for the day, but now what to do? I’ve cleaned the kitchen, taken out the trash, and done some meditation today. Now, I want to watch television while working out, but that will be difficult since the pups are energetic. They will get into my path, sure as day will come again.

Instead of working out, it’s time to take another meditation nap. I feel a lot of pain, fibromyalgia and chronic migraines have been my foes since 2014. The pups and kitties help, though when they bark or meow they harm my mind. It’s distressing, but they will be with me when I need them. The meditation naps, they do not interrupt, for that is my creative thinking time; I prep myself for another scene, another chapter. They will always be in my mind, and they will be working with me in the book, for magic and revenge. Or at least, escaping from the antagonists. I see how their interruptions can work against the foes, the ones who are unreal except in my memories of traumas. The disturbances are only the animals’ ways of getting my attention, and showing me they love me as much as I love them.

Once I wake from the nap, or rather a mindful state of relaxation, I feel the warmth of Starling cuddling against my leg. She’s covered with my blanket, and that part of my right leg is calmer than the rest of my body. It’s time for me to recognize, the animals are my family, and I recognize that every day. They may distract me, but they bring me joy. They may sneak and eat all the treats, but they listen to me when they are not in chemo treatment or dealing with inflammatory issues. Their job is to distract me from the pains in my mind and body.

When the next day arrives, the cycle continues. But I do not get mad. I know they can feel that numbness, stemming from trapped emotions. A friend’s child passed away. A family member I do not know, but I know their loved ones, also left this world. Starling and Oscar knew before I did, I was struggling. Lana knows I needed to get outside and enjoy the sun, so she begs every thirty minutes to tinkle-potty. She’s not happy until I am right beside her with a ball, and Starling grabs a stick with which to taunt. After the fun, I can write in peace, and that peace came from the pets wanting time with me. They are the muses that sit on my lap while I read, who put their chins on my feet while I type, and jump around with me when I dance to the beat of my story. My life feels complete.