- Recently, I was sent a copy of Revolutionary's jacket with the cover copy and the cats are mentioned in my author bio. In short, they're legit.
- I really do believe in the message of this post and how it affects my (writing) life.
So here goes. Our apartment building has begun an HVAC renovation, which means that every weekday the apartment must be ready for workmen to enter each room at 9am and stay until 5pm. Hence, no furniture within six feet of certain walls, cardboard taped to the floor to prevent gouging, and (most importantly) the cats locked up in the bathroom.
Every morning, therefore, I set the bathroom up for them -- fuzzy pet cups to sleep in, a litter box, water, and food. Then I go and write, leaving the cats to roam freely until I hear the workmen in the hall.
Now, just for entertainment, here are pictures of the two of them, hopefully capturing their personalities.
The one above is Magic. Sometimes spelled Magick. But never Magique.
Every morning, as soon as I set up the bathroom for them, Soda saunters past, jumps on the bed, and promptly falls asleep on her favorite blanket. Magic, on the other hand, prowls and paces for the hour until I lock them up. Both of them know what's coming... neither one of them enjoys being sequestered in the bathroom, but one of them lets the future (the unavoidable, inevitable imprisonment) wreck the last hour of freedom she has and the other one just does her thing.
Perhaps this is a lesson that resonates with me because of the rather looming event in my future (i.e. publication of my debut novel) but even without any large or impending (positive or negative) occurrence on the horizon, I think these cats give a fair reminder. And it's not the lesson that I've often heard (and dislike hearing) about why pets are great... this is not a case of "ignorance is bliss." Soda knows darn well what's going to happen: she just doesn't let it affect her routine.