I try to give my cats as much of my time as I can. What with work and chores, and the few hours I manage to sleep, the four of them don’t get much of me. But I like to give each his moment.
Renn has bath-time, when he waits happily with me while the tub fills with hot water. Later, he will join me for movie-night - through which he’ll sleep. Neville will come up on my lap for a prolonged session of chin-rubs. Porta now likes to snuggle next to me on the library couch.
Tucker, on the other hand, always seems to be near me. He’s at the dining table if I am writing, or - especially - if I am eating. He lies on the floor at my feet if I sit and read on the siting room couch, and he likes to snooze on the bed while I work on the computer.
But our favourite time is when I lift him up to the kitchen window. There is no chair or cat-tree or counter near enough to it for him to look out himself, so I will hold him. I talk to him as we look out; I ask him what he sees, and point out things that may interest him. He always purrs. When he is in a bad mood - perhaps Portia’s growls have been preventing the roly poly from going to the bedroom, or if he has thrown up a good dinner - holding him at the kitchen window and talking to him always makes him happy again. It is our time together; a short time, just a few minutes, really, but I think he views it as a treat.
I know I do.