Cataclysmic Proportions

Due to some personal reasons which I do not wish to divulge the full details of on the internet, I’ve had a craptastic start to this week.  Life, however, plugs on whether I’m ready for it or not so, notwithstanding, I’ve been trudging forth into the semester trying my darndest to not let personal junk get in the way of my work.

This task has been made monumentally easier by the presence in my life of one individual.  A guy who is quickly becoming the third most reliable man in my life (behind Shakespeare and my dad, of course).  A guy who knows what I need, when I need it, and isn’t afraid to give that to me.  A guy who’s sensitive, adoring, and utterly enthralled with me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Jerry.

Jerry is a giant black Maine Coon.  Jerry technically belongs to my roommate.  Jerry has two younger “siblings” (Boris and Natasha) who are also black Maine Coons but due to being malnourished in their first three weeks of life have remained adorably tiny (for Maine Coons).

Jerry helps me with my reading.  Whenever I snuggle up on the couch with some articles, my iPad, or a book I need to finish, he obligingly curls up on my chest and keeps me company until I’m done.  He even encourages me to read more since, when I think I’ve hit my threshold, I have to re-evaluate moving based upon how comfortable Jerry looks.  And as long as I’m stuck on the couch, I may as well charge forth with the reading, right?

Jerry helps me with my writing.  When I sit at my desk for any length of time, he curls around the corner and hops up into my lap to sleep while I tap away at whatever it is I’m working on.  Same rule applies as with the reading; more work gets done because Jerry deems it so.

Jerry keeping my desk warm

Jerry even keeps my desk warm for me when I’m not there.  I have frequently caught him sleeping on my computer chair carpet when he thinks that I’m not around to work at said computer chair.

Jerry knows when I’m upset and has, in the past, benched me for my behavior.  Too worked up to answer an insipid e-mail about some research problem?  Jerry makes sure I pet him a good long time before I can leave the couch.  Requiring a lift because I’m feeling mopey and really need to shake the bad mood and get some work done?  Jerry cuddles me and purrs at me until he’s sure that I can handle what it is that I need to do.

I’m really not sure how I ever got any work done without a cat to tell me to do it.  Despite

Jerry helping me work

the fact that they shed everywhere and leave hairballs where I can step on them before I’ve had my coffee in the morning, I am mightily appreciative of all that the feline companions bring to this household.

Thanks, Jerry.  You’re really saving my week.