Steel White Table

I said I wouldn’t upload consecutive posts this year, but I got sick of waiting for Jody. Not that I have anything to post about now, but let’s try to break the monotony and see what happens. Alright, here goes. I’m going to type for 5 minutes (with a timer) and I’m clicking the PUBLISH button the second dinger goes ding without proofing-reading. Start the clock NOW!

I’m beginning another sentence with “I’m” as I write this on the laptop at my kitchen table and look out the window at a big backyard of trees and shrubs and a greenhouse covered with heavy snow as my black cat Nigel sits right next to the keyboard and purrs and tries to rub against my face until I have to push him away. In a minute his head will come down and rub against my fingers as I type this. He is so close to me that he’s obscuring my view of the laptop’s screen. His front paws are on the corner of the laptop. Now he’s sniffing my arm. He just stopped purring. Now he’s rubbing his cheek against the screen. We’re both facing the window. He’s not sure what to do with himself. Okay, he’s back next to the keyboard again looking straight across at nothing. I just petted him. I don’t know what he wants me to do. If I picked him up, he’d be happy. He’s always happy to be picked up. He wasn’t always like that. He’s about 9 or 10 years old now. It was only this year that he didn’t resist being picked up. He was always friendly but never too inclined to stay in anyone’s arms for long, never more than a minute, if that. I got Nigel around 1997-98 when I was living on Hayward Ave here in St. John’s, the first real apartment I had by myself. It was the 3rd floor of a somewhat run-down row house in a somewhat run-down neighbourhood called Georgetown which has since been built up a bit like many streets in St. John’s. I still wouldn’t want to live in that house, but I don’t mind the neighbourhood so much. It’s getting better. The apartment, when I lived in it, had a low ceiling and shoddy used furniture. Nothing matched. The couch in the living room had no springs. Sit it in and you’d sink below your knees. It was made from some kind of purple velvet material. Next to it was a smaller cushioned chair with floral patterns someone’s grandmother during the ’70s would love. The small, stubby wooden legs would fall off whenever I tried to move it. The double bed that came with the place was the same quality. It sank in the middle. I slept on the edges and Nigel usually slept next to my head or right on my chest or my back. He was like that since the day I got him, completely affectionate, purring all the time. His purring got so loud at times it gave me a headache. I’ve never been fond of cats. I’m definitely not a cat person. But I make an exception for Nigel. He’s a cool cat.

(This post has been updated with typos corrected and photo added.)

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Tags: cats, pets

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