In Which a Russian Poet and a Flapper Sit on My Lap

The unthinkable has happened twice in the past twenty-four hours.

Last night at around eleven thirty, I was lying in bed wedged between Maxwell and Zelda when Pushkin walked into the room. He leapt up on the windowsill, batted at the blinds, and then took a flying leap onto my bed. Instead of doing his normal routine of parading up and down the side of the bed while periodically head-butting my hand, he started climbing on me. This is peculiar, I thought and kept very still to see if he would continue. Finally, he stood on my stomach with all four paws and paused. I tried very hard not to breathe. After turning around a few times, he settled down on my legs and stared at me blinking as if to say,“Stop looking at me like that, lady. I do this all the time.” A minute of shocked silenced passed, and his eyes drifted shut. I could hardly believe it. Little, paranoid, fearful Pushkin was actually on my lap, and not only that, he was SLEEPING, full on completely relaxed sleeping.

It only lasted fifteen minutes, and it was magical. It may have taken him three-and-a-half years to do, but he did it! He really, really did it. I’m so proud of the little guy and thrilled that I got to be the first one to experience it.

I was talking to my mom this afternoon when Zelda came wandering over. She performed her critically acclaimed Feed-Me-I’m-Hungry Act and wound herself around her legs for a few minutes while I reached down to pet her. My mom said something interesting, so I looked up to respond, and the next thing I knew Zelda was in my lap.

Now, Zelda is a people cat. She loves sleeping right up against you, and she’s a big fan sitting behind you in chairs (and biting your butt), but she is not a lap-sitting cat. In fact, the last time she did it, we took a picture. And according to iPhoto, that picture is nearly six years old. But this lack of lap-sitting experience didn’t seem to bother Zelda any as she settled right down to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, I had to gently shove her off so I could get back to my homework, and she looked up at me as if to say, “Why did you have to do that? You ruin all the fun!”

I wonder what I’m doing to make the cats love me so much, because I’d really like those two incidents to have repeat performances.

As I write this post, all three of them are on my bed. Zelda and Pushkin are lying next to each other, and Max is in my lap. Please enjoy some grainy Photobooth pictures of the trio with a cameo made by my pajama shirt.

Zelda Fitzgerald the Cat: Part One

Both the woman and the cat Zelda Fitzgerald enjoy excess. While Zelda Fitzgerald the Woman loved alcohol and attention, Zelda Fitzgerald the Cat prefers copious amounts of cat food and sleeping in the sun. I still have hopes that Zelda Fitzgerald the Cat will take up ballet, though not in Zelda Fitzgerald the Woman’s obsessive and unhealthy manner.