As I write this, my butt is protected. No one can get to it while I am ensconced in an armchair. They would have to burrow through from underneath the chair like some horror movie demon. Thanks to technology and phone apps, I can stay planted here as I write and publish. Thanks for covering my ass, technology.
Maybe that’s why my cats hate computers and smart phones.
There are tiny, fangy toothmarks in the corner of my Lifeproof phone case from where Olivia Wigglebothum has protested my use of the phone. Of all the things that the case is proofed for, there was never mention of it being cat proof.
Technology drives my cats to distraction and destruction. For now, I’ve sedated them with their first dinner scoop, but I sense that they are growing restless. Birdie has cruised by one too many times to inspect what I’m doing. Tapping away at the tiny hand box is all she can report.
If I were at the computer, I would be swarmed by now; and my butt would be in danger. Try as I might to explain, “Mommy is working now” translates to cats about as well as it translates to small children. If I am at the computer too long, (too long seems to be somewhere between 5 minutes and 2 hours), Miles will jump up on the chair next to me, knocking off anything that I’ve laid there, and plant his front paws on my leg and his face an inch from my face. He clearly wants to be on my lap, but it is now my responsibility to scoop up his hind half and awkwardly situate him on my lap between my body and the work table. The rewarding part is that he totally does the doggy lean against me and purrs like this is the best ever.
**Side note: I get the same reaction when he jumps on my lap while I’m on the toilet.
The frustrating part is his goal of getting between me and the computer. He dramatically, emphatically, deliberately rubs his face and jaw on whichever hand is trying to type or work the mouse. This can make online bill paying and shopping dangerous. Fortunately, his tolerance for me trying to work around him is limited and he usually decamps after a few minutes.
His awkward love and technology intervention is less painful than Olivia’s. Olivia’s favorite thing to do is reach through the chair, grab my butt or hip with her extended claws, and perform a dramatic stretch. I find this shocking because I didn’t know she was there, and painful. If her desired effect is a screech out of me, then she’s doing okay.
Once she has my attention, she brings the mousie for me to throw. (Obsessed!) She’ll jump up on the chair beside me, mousie in mouth then drop the mouse on to the seat of the chair. This is adorable and would be really convenient for me, if the mousie did not immediately roll or bounce on to the floor. I feel too bad to say no, so instead of working I’m doing backbends from my chair to get the mousie.
I swear it only takes her like 5 seconds to retrieve it and start all over again. If I ignore the retrieved mousie too long, I get a claw to the butt.
The best technology intervention is when they tag team me.