8 Ways My Cat Makes Me Happy

1. The look Jack gives me when he knows I'm not giving petting him my entire attention. It says "I know you can do better. You know you can do better. Put down the laptop and give me my due."

2. Jack's obsession with the mysterious region known as under the sheets. Seriously, there must be something there that my feeble human senses can't get at, because, man, he loves it. CAT FORT!

3. The way he stretches out his back legs straight out behind him and his front legs straight out in front of him, like he's flying on the floor.

4. How happy he is when I finally sit down for the evening and he snuggles up either next to my hip or next to my feet.

5. The special meow that means "my food is stale. please either add fresh to it or stir it around so it appears fresh."

6. How much he loves it when I pick him up wearing my bathrobe. He purrs and kneads and carries on and generally has a great time.

7. How he turns on the extra cute if I momentarily stop petting him. Examples of extra cute: grabbing one's face with one's paws, flipping onto one's back to expose one's belly, pushing head under convenient surfaces (i.e. pillows, sheets, owner's hands), or any combination thereof.

8. The special meow that means "i know i have a cat door, but i would prefer if you would open the human sized door for my human sized ego."

A Fall Morning in Tucson

Its 6:15 and my phone buzzes my alarm. I hit the snooze button and try to go back to sleep. But its no use. Instead of a phone demanding my attention, now there is a kitty.

Jack sharpens his claws on the mattress, jumps up beside me and settles between the gently snoring Tim-mountain and me, but leaning against my side in a warm purry mass. How is it that when cats lay down, they seem to lose their bones? I scratch his ears and his chin and underneath his armpits and he stretches into a long gray shadow next to me. This is our morning routine, Jack and I; he hears my alarm, knows I'm awake and settles in for some snuggling.

But this morning is different. I'm trying to pinpoint how when I realize I'm cold, that Jack's warmth next to me is welcome, rather than an annoyance. I reach my hand above my head to crack the blinds a bit. Rather than a small beam of sunshine, grey pre-dawn light filters onto the bed. Winter is coming, I think...and then immediately chide myself for such a ridiculous thought. Its not even October, and maybe I've been watching too much Game of Thrones.

I'd like to continue lounging with Jack, but its a school day, so I get out of bed and get dressed. Laundry lies in heaps in and around the closet, clean mixed with worn in a jumble. I actually have to turn on the closet light this morning to search for something to wear, something that wasn't necessary two days ago. There's nothing to wear, despite the piles so I head out to the laundry room.

There's a smell in the air when Fall finally comes to Tucson. Its not the smell of dead leaves or of pumpkins or other Fall-y things; it's its own Tucson-Fall smell...maybe its the absence of ambient moisture or the collective smell of the post-monsoonal greenery. It could just the be coolness of the air in my nostrils rather an actual scent, but at any rate, its here this morning. The cement of the garage is actually cold under my bare feet and I find myself thinking about slippers and sweaters, despite the fact that it can't be cooler than 65 degrees. I grab a clean shirt, shake out its wrinkles and head back inside to finish getting ready, thinking "Fall is here...Fall is here!"

I decide to walk to school this fine, first Fall morning, instead of driving. It seems to be a popular choice among Tucsonans today. I imagine the first day of Fall in the desert must feel similar to the first day of spring warmth in places like Minnesota and upstate New York...people are so happy for a change, so delighted that the long wait is over, that even though it could snow the next day, folks still put on their shorts and flip-flops and bask in the newness of Not-Winter. Its like that in Tucson too. Today will probably still be hot. Highs are still in the 90s. And it could even get into the 100s, if Summer decides to put up a fight (it did one year; we had 100 degree heat into November), so instead of a sweater and socks, I've compromised with 3/4 length sleeves and sandals. And a jacket. "A jacket!" I think.

I'm not alone on my walk. My neighborhood is filled with dog-walkers and bike-riders and porch-sitters. Tucson is breathing a collective sigh of relief this morning and I celebrate the turning of the seasons with a trip to Raging Sage. That king of coffee shops has a small patio and it's full. There's a group of older folks who are there as often as I am, a couple who looks like they've just come from Yoga Oasis across the street, a solitary dude writing on a computer. Nobody wants to be inside on the first morning of Fall.

The barristas are ready to pour me an iced Gold Rush, because that's what I've been ordering for the last 6 sweltering months. But today I stop Kristen before she can reach for the plastic cup. "I'll have it hot this morning." I say. She smiles, understanding the joy in my voice. "Yeah, I wore a scarf today!" Such little things: hot tea, a scarf, long(ish) sleeves, a jacket. But for all of us Tusconans, the best part of the year has just arrived.