The Call of the Cat

We have a cat. Okay, we have more than one cat, but this post is about our eldest cat, Yoda. He's going on fourteen now, and that's pretty old for a cat. You know what they say about age and wisdom, well my cat thinks he's a guru. He also thinks he owns us. We think we own him. Can you see where this is going? Yup, you are so right.

Yoda's trying to teach us new habits. Habits that involve nighttime waking. It works something like this.

10:00 p.m.

Yoda standing at the door wanting in: Meow.

Translation: Open the door, my servant.

Me, standing at the door looking at the cold. (And yes, you can look at cold--at least you can in the mountains of Utah in November): Fine, come in.

Yoda: Meow. Purr.

Translation: Thank you. You are a good and faithful companion, and I will reward you well.

Hubby: We are so going to pay for that.

Me: I know, but it's cold outside.

Hubby sighing: I know.

4:00 a.m.

Yoda: Meow.

Translation: I would like to go out for a brief constitutional. See to my needs.

Me stirring from sleep: Uggggg.

4:01 a.m.

Yoda: Meow.

Translation: Now.

Me groaning.

Translation: Stupid cat!

4:02 a.m.

Yoda: Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. (Repeated until my ears fall off, and a strange desire to yell and throw things fills me.)

Translation: Rise and serve me, puny human!

Me: Stupid cat!

Hubby rolling over and groaning.

Translation: I told you so.

Me covering head with pillow.

Translation: I know. Stupid cat.

Repeat until 6:00 a.m. in a vain attempt to train old cat new manners.

Translation: Yeah right. Good luck with that.

What does all this have to do with writing? Yoda sounds exactly like the little voice inside me that says things like: Sit down and write. You're wasting your time. Get of the Internet. You only have two pages today, get to work. Finish this draft. Get up and write. Why are you watching TV? Write. Write now! Don't you groan at me, young woman! I own you. I know how to keep you up at night and don't think I won't do it. Do as I command, and I will reward you well.

So how does this story end? I got up and put the cat out. And I'm sitting at my computer ready to write. So, I guess I can be owned after all.

How about you? What drives you? Is it a voice inside your head that won't shut up? A cat that won't let you sleep? Both? Drop a comment and share your motivation/torment. :)