This is my dad’s cat, Ginger. Like many house pets, she really knows how to nap.
This is an afternoon ritual. My dad curls up on his couch under a cozy blanket, and Ginger curls up on the back of the couch on her own cozy blanket. They can remain like this for hours, not entirely together, but together.
My dad’s previous cat lived to be 22 and I suspect this one will age just as well. She is spoiled (as all pets should be). She isn’t a lover like her predecessor was, but she is lovey in her own way–she’ll rub your legs, allow you to pet her, purr, stretch and blink and talk at you–but she’s just not a cuddler. They are all different, as are we.
My dad has always been a napper. I am a big fan of naps, but my life doesn’t allow for many lately and the occasional luxury of one is greatly appreciated. I love a summer nap in the middle of a hot day with windows open and summer sounds outside. I love a fall nap when it’s raining outside. A winter or spring nap when the weather is chill and the days are still short, well, what could be better?
When I do make the time for a nap (or I just can’t keep my eyes open anymore and I have no choice but to nap) my dog is almost always happy to oblige and join me. Then again, she is almost always napping. But if I lie down on a couch or in bed, she’s there almost instantly, filling the empty space behind my legs or in front of my belly. Sometimes even under the covers. She’s my personal furnace like that.
Maybe 2016 should be the year of making time for naps? We should all nap more. What ill could come of this? None, I tell you.
Maybe I’ll try to fit one in today. Just as soon as I finish this pile of urgent editing projects on my desk…