Sonata Allegro

Sonata Allegro, Sonny for short, is my cat. I got him over 11 years ago, when he was an eight-week-old kitten. I told my husband that I needed more affection and cuddling, and if he wasn’t going to give it to me, then I wanted to get a cat. He said, “Let’s go the animal shelter.” OK, so it wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but I did succeed in getting something to snuggle. Of course, cuddling with Sonny is on HIS terms, and ONLY on his terms.

Sonny is not a small cat, and he is the undisputed King of the household. He permits us to wait on him, and he gets grumpy when things don’t go his way. (Hmmm, surely he doesn’t take after me????) He is mostly an indifferent despot, but occasionally will join in the spirit of things. (Out of fairness to the other animals in our home, Dave’s cat, Soto Voce, is the Crown Prince, and he doesn’t feel like he has to get excited about anything, so he doesn’t. Serafina, the Princess, is Sonny’s cat. She lives to antagonize Sonny, rubbing against him, following him around, pouncing on him if he doesn’t pay any attention. And then, there is Mozart, the parrot. He is, without question, the court jester – talking, laughing, making noise, and pouting when we aren’t paying attention to him.)

Unless I have hit the snooze button too many times, most mornings I check email and Facebook while I drink my coffee. And wouldn’t you know it – that is when Sonny wants attention. I guess it isn’t enough that my user name on most applications is a variation of his name. In his mind, that does not count as quality time together. I sit in my recliner, with my feet up, coffee cup at my elbow, and my laptop on my knees. Sonny almost always climbs onto my chest, right in the way, purring loudly. That isn’t comfortable for either of us for longer than a minute or two, so he has taken to settling in beside me in the chair. I absent-mindedly scratch behind his ears while I sip my coffee, check out who has a birthday today, and perhaps chat a minute or two with friends across the pond.

This morning it really hit me – he is sitting NEXT TO ME in the chair – NOT sitting on my side, or on the arm of the chair. He is quite comfortably sitting on the seat of the chair between my leg and the arm of the chair! I’m not sure exactly when that happened, but thinking back, he has been doing this for a while. WOW! I no longer wear my recliner. I just sit in it.

To all my friends who have never had to squeeze into a chair, this might not mean much. But to those who have had to try to fit into a chair with arms – or who have gotten bruises on their hips from the arms of a theater or arena seat – or who have declined invitations to events with theater seating because they know how uncomfortable they will be – I know you appreciate what I am saying. It’s not really about what I look like – it’s about being a “normal” size in relation to what manufacturers are making. Understand, my recliner is not a small, petite, demur piece of furniture. It is large and overstuffed – very comfortable, and at my biggest, I completely filled it. Now I can share it with my cat. And he is obviously comfortable sitting there, because Sonny doesn’t do ANYTHING that makes him uncomfortable.

This is one more step in the journey. Maybe tomorrow, to celebrate, I will just cuddle with Sonny. It will be good for both of us.