I whisper the wrong words to myself, my mistakes loud even in that quiet tone. My insecurities freeze my fingers as they hover over the keyboard. My eyes search the screen for better options or new ideas, but the best solutions lurk in my subconscious—they always do.
I take a breath, a moment to refocus. She stretches, big. Dainty toe beans reach out to rest against my forearm, and I crumble, wallowing in my weaknesses. She blinks up at my discouraged tears with concern, then pats my arm again.
Or, she kneads gentle claws against my leg. Rubs her soft head against my hand. Purrs so much that I can’t focus on my read through.
She is always there, a constant reminder of all the good days and bad days, all the sitting and standing days, all the writing and rewriting days.
She’s been in my lap for all of them.
Writing with a cat is just asking for trouble—the best kind. Yes, she still uses those sharp claws and instinctual stealth mode to wreak havoc on my ankles when I’m dictating, but…
Though I never sit down to write with her in my lap, she always sneaks her way in, even if there’s barely enough room between my cozy blanket and the edge of the desk. She always asks for a cuddle when my hands stop typing. She licks me aggressively when I go to pick up my phone. I don’t know how she knows when it’s a call versus when I’m going for a dopamine-scroll, but I think she does.
She remains indifferent to my personal boundaries and work hours, but when I pull an all-nighter, she only sits next to me, watching over me for as long as she can stay awake. Then, she must doze in my lap. There is no negotiating, no standing desk option, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She won’t leave me alone when I’m working so hard.
And after, she puts me to bed the next morning. Always.
She really is the best boss I’ve ever had. She sits on me when I get distracted. She judges me when I don’t work. She comforts me when I get low. She purrs along with me when I’m cheering.
Writing with a cat can be like having a pint-sized predator with emotional needs claim squatter’s rights on your desk. I have found it’s also like having your closest friend by your side, paw on hand, every step of the way.
And I am so blessed and so much better off for it.
For the last two years, my best boss has been writing my monthly newsletter in my name. Well, mostly her name. I have appreciated it, and, by the numbers, so did my readers, but all good things come to an end.
Don’t worry your whiskers. My top supurrvisor is in great health, and so am I.
I’m going to revamp my newsletter experience in 2025, and in her divine feline judgment, she would rather contribute in other ways. So, she is giving herself a promotion and moving on to bigger and better things in my brand.
And I say good for her. She’s earned it. With a double chicky treato bonus.
Though this era of the newsletter is ending, my new CatEO and I know it’s something to smile about. Cheers to more endings, more beginnings, and even more lap time.