First she puts her front paws on your lap and waits for a moment, checking whether you are planning to get up. Then she climbs aboard completely, makes herself comfortable, and rests her head. You still remember the tea in the kitchen and the phone in the hallway, but disturbing an animal that has finally settled down is an act of cruelty not every monster is capable of.

Today she is wearing a dark sweater. Gold and silver flecks flash when she turns toward the light, while the soft ruffles around the collar and hem move slightly with every shift. From a distance, it looks as though she is dressed for dinner. Up close, it becomes clear that dinner, like everything else, can wait.

She stretches out one paw, shifts her head, and sighs with the satisfaction of someone who has worked all day specifically for this moment. Meanwhile, you learn to answer messages with one hand, reach for your cup with your fingertips, and ignore the fact that your leg went numb some time ago.

The moment you finally pull the laptop closer and settle in with her, she opens her eyes, stretches, and leaves for the sofa. A warm patch remains on your lap, cold tea in your cup, and you gain a few free minutes before she comes back.