Disarmed

The photo is one that I took with my phone. Acadia curled up in the crook of my arm while I’m sprawled on the sofa. The laptop that’s resting on my stomach is just out of frame.

As per the ritual, she’s taken my interest in a thing – the laptop – as her cue to stand between me and it, her butt squarely in my face.

Imagine staring into a cave that’s covered inside and out with dense, gray-brown fur.

As per the ritual, she’s walked across my chest and dug around for a while at my side. She’s circled there and flopped over like a tipped cow.  Sound asleep three minutes later. Whiskers twitching as she dreams.