Empire strikes

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Often when I get home from work I’m still working, either editing photos or continuing to compile more Wayne State history for a time line over the past 119 years. I’ll take all the extra hours I can get. But I don’t mind it as much because I get to be with Empire the Taddy Put.

I love when she crawls up on my lap for a few z’s while I’m at the computer. Eventually she’ll softly start snoring and twitching her paws and nose. I like to think she’s dreaming about nabbing her mostly destroyed jingly toy, chasing down Mr. Frogger or once again capturing a spider or fly and thoughtfully bringing it to me in her mouth as a gift.

I love this moment because 1) it’s cute, and 2) she’s not tearing through the house and latching onto my foot to bite my ankle just because it’s the most vulnerable spot to attack. But mostly because it’s cute.

Devin gets to soak up this kind of sappiness many afternoons while I’m at work, and I only get to sulk with jealousy as I hear about this fairytale experience. Because when he leaves for work, just before I come home from work, Empire goes berserk and morphs into some sort of psycho ninja kitty. Could she just be overly excited to see me? I’d like to think so, but I believe it’s more a combination of releasing energy that she stored up all day from napping on Devin’s lap and unleashing revenge because mommy left her all day.

It’s always a happy greeting when I walk in the door. She’s all sweet and cute as she sits on the floor and watches me walk by. But in the next moment, I turn around (insert deer-in-headlights look here), I see airborne paws outstretched and lunging at me. She has some pretty intense ups. Then all I hear as she gallops past me into another room is a minimal crash into something and a playful (possibly painful) little kitty yelp.

And repeat.

I either retreat to the middle of my bed or run downstairs to sit in the chair and tuck my feet under me. She’ll eventually come crawling back, all apologetic.

I try to overlook those moments of terror when I wake up in the morning just a few minutes before the alarm clock and she’s cuddled up or sprawled out between my arm and body. It doesn’t last long because as soon at the alarm goes off, she’s on a mission to destroy it. Translation: jump on the dresser, sniff at it nervously and jump on me to turn it off. Still working on getting her to step on the button for me. Then I’m off to work with my bitten, scratched up feet and legs from the day and week before, dreaming that she’ll be a cuddly kitty when I return home.

Here's to cat naps and wishful thinking. *Cheers*