babycat’s work ethic is clear. he is not dedicated to screen time, nor is he dedicated to long portions of work-related tasks. he prefers to nap. anywhere. anytime. his eyes squeezed shut, he pretends to be unaware of the things going on around him. because he is “big-boned”, a-lot-of-cat, scooting him out of the way is like gently easing a massive concrete block a little to the left or a little to the right; there is no give. yet we work around him, we absolutely accommodate him. if he is sleeping on the bed, taking up perpendicular space, we will squish to the side, choosing to list starboard or port, whichever direction he is not. he rules supreme.
i wake in the middle of the night, d jostling me, a clear sign to turn over and stop snoring. only i am not snoring. from the foot of the bed or perhaps under the bed, where jostling is impossible, it is babycat who snores loudly. his contented breaths both amuse us and keep us awake. a gentle poke-at-the-cat yields a temporary lull, but his sweet hulking body settles back into sleep and snoring commences. the white noise of our overnight, he rules supreme.
dogdog wants to get a drink of water from their mutual bowl. but babycat stands over it. dogga reaches his paw out to try and drag the cat from the bowl, but babycat is firmly planted and dogga is unsuccessful. so, even though he whines with frustration and looks at us with a “do something!” plea, dogdog, at least twice the size of this supersized cat, waits. because babycat rules supreme.
and yet, even with the snoring and the bed-hogging and the torture-of-the-dog and the clear reign-of-the-house, we cannot imagine life without the babycat. his presence and the fact that he-saved-me-i-didn’t-save-him rules supreme.