I have this thing with the cat of a morning, she jumps up on my desk, works her way around the computer and tries so hard to look like she doesn’t care I’m there as she drops onto my lap. If she were to curl up and sleep then this wouldn’t be a problem. But she doesn’t, she nuzzles me for cuddles and pats, rubs her wet nose against my arm. Annoys the heck out of me until I guide her back to the floor and she either wanders off or starts again.
It use to be that I wouldn’t shut the study door in case I couldn’t hear my daughter if she woke or needed me. But she is nearly 6 she keeps reminding me (although nearly is actually 6 months away). And she can reach the handle and let herself in, loudly chastising the cat and reminding it that it can’t enter the sacred zone because “mama is working and she needs quiet”.
The fact that this is relayed in a loud voice, to a cat that cannot understand, is lost on her and as the flow is already interrupted I take a few minutes to cuddle with her and talk about what we will do for the day. Then she is happy to watch the cartoons and mama gets another half hour of quiet time, so the door will stay shut.
Sometimes I think the cat wakes her out of spite, because if she can’t play with me then someone needs to. But at least that is all I have to negotiate with, or work around for my quiet time at the computer, where I can lose myself in my writing, or concentrate on my studies.
My physical writing environment has been working well for some time now. Everything within reach, space to make it in, small heater under the desk so that fresh Tasmanian mornings don’t keep me from drafting. But the emotional writing space is just as important. And sometimes I have trouble bringing the two together.
Family can be a great support and if they need to support you by leaving you alone for an hour or two a day, talk to them about it. You don’t want to spend your writing time trying to negotiate with a cat.
Happy Scribbling
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