My Cat is a Great Coworker, and She Might Even Like Me

Elsa Clair

My office has everything you might imagine a pet blogger and professional writer needs. A laptop, monitor and mouse (the digital kind.) Bookshelves filled with books, from novels to references. Two printers (one mostly for my photography) and places for all my supplies: printer paper, ink, pens, highlighters, dog and cat treats.

And dog beds. Three of ’em. On the floor. One each for Lilah, Jasper and Tucker, though no specific beds are assigned.

Lilah, Tucker, and Jasper in my office.

Plus cat beds. Two of ’em. On my desk. Both belong to Elsa Clair. She moves from bed to bed depending on her mood and the angle of the sun.

Elsa Clair rules both beds on my desk.

Elsa Clair is quiet. Doesn’t bark at the UPS guy. Or the mailman. Or the guy walking his dog. Or that stupid squirrel. Or a leaf.

She’s a great coworker. Even if she sleeps on the job.

Mondays are hard for both of us.

Of all our cats, Elsa Clair is the least demonstrative. Athena yowls her love at Brian, following him through the kitchen until he stops to pet her. Dawn stomps around Aaron’s room, telling my son about the various indignities being inflicted upon her by the other cats, the dogs, the laundry basket and possibly that suspiciously closed box. Calvin taps me on my leg, requesting a lift up so he kind ride my shoulder, rub my face and purr.

But Elsa Clair? She keeps herself to herself.

Elsa Clair is a quiet coworker.

So, though she shares my office with me, I’m not exactly sure about her opinion of the arrangement. Or how she feels about me. (Meal times, excepted of course. Then I am completely aware of what all the cats think, which is that I’m late with the food yet again, the service in this establishment is terrible, and I should be reported to management.)

Sometimes Elsa Clair prefers the lower bunk.

Every once in a while, Elsa Clair will pour herself out of her bed, stretch her long legs, saunter three steps across my desk and stare at me. I’ve learned to stop typing, lift my left arm so it’s not blocking my lap, and then wait.

My cat’s green eyes focus on mine. Then she’ll look at my laptop. Then back at me.

I wait.

Those eyes!

When the correct amount of time has passed, the mood is deemed right, and perhaps a touch of encouragement is given in the form of chin scratchies, Elsa Clair will step carefully on my lap, turn around once or twice and then… she’ll just stand there.

I wait.

Once again, she will carefully consider whether curling up in my lap is indeed the best action taken at the moment. Then, almost as if she has suddenly deflated, the cat will melt into my lap and set her purr to high.

Elsa Clair settles in my lap.

So I think she likes me. Though sometimes I wonder if my lap is nothing more than a third — and possibly least desirable — bed option at my desk. It’s hard to tell.

But if I’m away from my desk — stepping out to take the dogs for walk or leaving the house for a meeting, my little Elsa Clair is nearly always among the throng at the door waiting for me. She’s smart enough to avoid the chaos of 150 pounds of dog swirling around the floor; she greets me from the safety of the laundry room counter. From her perch, she’ll talks to me: “Ma-row? Rower. Mow!” Which I believe roughly translates to “Where have you been?”

And if I don’t head right to my office, my little kitty coworker will walk up and down the stairs, rubbing the balusters and stopping now and again to offer additional commentary. “Me-row? Merow! Wow. Meow.”

Which, I think is Cat for “Are you coming?”

And just possibly might mean she missed me.

Elsa Clair in her spot while I wrote this post.

How do your pets tell you what they think?

You may also like:

• Paws Button
• The Paper Chase
• Fit to Print: Cats Love Printers
• Photo: Cat at work
• Calvin, Cat Office Manager
• Text from Cat: A heated discussion about a cat bed
• Text from Cat: Cute always wins
• Text from Cat: Helping with the paperwork
• Calvin discovers the music of Carole King

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