During the week, I work at a well-known university. I am responsible for managing nearly a dozen people.
On the weekends, however, I am an unpaid employee to an extremely demanding boss: my cat Bob.
This was forcibly brought home to me this afternoon, when Bob sauntered up to where I sat writing at my laptop, let out one squeak and walked away. I obediently stood and followed him to the French door, which I opened.
Bob stood in the doorway for nearly twenty seconds, staring out at the backyard, before deciding the 100+ temperature outside was not acceptable. He turned and walked down the hall to my study. When I sat back down in my black leather chair, he leaped gracefully into my arms and draped himself across my forearms.
As you might imagine, this made typing difficult. Bob tried various methods to get me to give up working. He licked the back of my right hand, he tapped my cheek with his paw and finally stepped off onto the laptop to glare at me.
I picked him up and tossed him on the floor. He sighed heavily and headed down the hall to my bedroom. I heard him jump up onto the tall mattress.
I had just settled back to work when I heard a disgruntled squeak. I ignored it, hoping he'd settled down to a nap. No such luck. He continued to howl in obvious distress until I got up and walked to the bedroom where he stood, looking up at the ceiling fan. Understanding his intent, I turned the fan on.
He plopped down, and I waited to make sure he was happy before returning to type this post.
I'm looking forward to Monday . . .