Ahhh my cats. I love them dearly. Currently I am listening to the plaintive cries of my fuzzy orange one named Tug.
You see, for a change of scenery I have taken to sitting with my computer in our "library" i.e. second bedroom, to conduct my job search. (And write emails, And play on facebook, And write on this blog) I had previously been spending my days on our couch in our living room and bugging my husband who works downstairs in his basement office. So, this week, I am in the library. It gives my husband and me more separation and honestly I feel a bit more productive.
Here is the problem. My cats can't stand it. Our guest room (library) is cat-free. We have a few wonderful friends who stay with us on occasion who are allergic to cats, so we do not allow ours into this room. Tug and Osita have become quite accustomed to having someone around ALL DAY. My being in this room has thrown them into a downright tizzy. Periodically, throughout the day, they will come to the door and tell me all about their displeasure with the new arrangement. Tug, our puffy, short haired, orange, Garfield type, rubs against the door and meowowowow's and rowowowrrr's for a solid ten minutes. Occasionally, he pulls his signature move and sneezes all over the door.
Osita on the other hand, has a slightly different tactic. She is a beautiful, sleek, black, short haired girl who is, shall we say, pear shaped. Bluntly, Osita has a booty and she uses it. I will be sitting quietly, typing away, and all of a sudden schhhhhh-BOOM! Osita will begin her dance with a flirty rub against the door finished with a hip-check that makes me jump out of my skin! Then she proceeds to trill and purr and meow for her ten minute turn. Of course this is all punctuated with intermittent hip-checks.
I may feel guilty at times for depriving them of me and all of my wonderful-ness, but one day my children, I WILL have a job.