Geoffrey

The cat seems lonely.  She hasn't been sleeping in her basket by the fireplace much the past couple days.  This afternoon I couldn't find her on the ground floor in any of her usual spots.  I went upstairs and turned the hall light on to find her sprawled out next to the office door.  This evening, she came and sat behind me on top of the chair I was sitting in.

Sometimes I pretend like the cat is just a little bit human.  Like maybe she secretly wants me keep her company on the floor in the dark upstairs hallway, or maybe she thinks we're buddies when I give her my ice cream bowl to lick when I'm done.  Or like when she comes over and looks at me and then hops up onto my lap—surely that means we're friends, that we're looking out for each other.  I like to think her expressions are human expressions, too.  Those thoughtful gazes and all.  But then when she yawns and avoids eye contact and walks away... I have to console myself that she doesn't really hate me.

I like Geoffrey the cat.  She is very silly, but sweet.