Mozart and I have this thing that we do every morning.
We read the comics together.
Yeah, that’s right, the comics. I’ll go into my office and start the serial download of the strips we follow, skim the New York Times, help Mozart to the top of the table (he’s reached the point in his career where the elevator is appreciated, especially since I insist on keeping stuff on the rolling file cabinet that he can, and sometimes still does, use as an intermediary jumping-on place), and together, like I said, we read the comics, and look Weather Underground, and sometimes the day-job email, though that’s a habit I’m trying to break.
It will surprise no one, I hope, to learn that Mozart has his favorites among the daily comic run. Girl Genius, of course, and Narbonic. He’s a big fan of Didi’s, from Menage a 3 — yes, he does appear to have a thing for women with holdings. This is fortunate.
…and please note that some of these comics are not always work-safe.
He likes to keep up with Ludwig in Arlo and Janis. 9 Chickweed Lane and Stone Soup pretty much leave him cold, but he has an avuncular interest in the characters residing within Questionable Content. He likes Hannelore, despite her deficiency of holdings, and worries that she’ll never find a cat of her own. Looking at pictures of pretty kittens on the internet just isn’t the same.
So, this morning, we’re looking at the comics, Mozart and me — it’s Tuesday, so “Menage a 3” has updated, and Mozart’s pretty interested in how the whole play thing is, um, going to play out and whether Gary will be able to make his case with Yuki, or be doomed to go home with the guy from the comics store. I’m kinda interested in that outcome, myself, though I’m thinking more along the lines of a fight over Zii, Didi and the redhaired girl making a pair, and Gary going home with Dinah and Making Dillon Sorry. . .
Where was I?
Right. Reading the comics. Finished up; Mozart is lounging with his head on the edge of my keyboard. I obliged him with some whisker-twizzling and ear-rubbing, then zipped over to Weather Underground to see exactly how wet I could expect to get today. Mozart takes this opportunity to pitch a nap and a day at home. I manage, just, to resist this.
It turns out that I can expect to get pretty comprehensively damp, and remain that way throughout the day. Also? There’s news!
“Look, Mozart!” I say, running the screen up so he can see the red letters. “There’s a flood watch!”
Immediately, he sits up, and directs his attention at the screen. A flood watch! How exciting. On the spot, he revises his plans for the day to include the viewing of floods.
Having taken this decision, Mozart is energized. He makes a wide turn, making sure to brush his tail across the screen, and sits down with his back to me, and glances down to where there is a small stack of invoices awaiting disposition.
“Don’t you dare,” I say to him.
He glances over his shoulder at me. Smiles.
And deliberately turns back, bending his head so that he can delicately nudge the entire pile off the table and onto the floor. Some of the pages flutter before they hit. Of course, the whole is now a disordered mess requiring somebody with thumbs to order.
That, would be me.
His work done, Mozart leaps from the table and strolls out, down the hall and to the kitchen, for a well-earned bite of breakfast.
Here’s a picture of Mozart at work, taken on March 1, his twelfth birthday: