the amateur

We have cats. I have mentioned this before, correct? Gus (a brown tabby) and Hazel (a Russian blue).

They live upstairs. I live downstairs. We are separated by a door. A noisy one. So in the mornings when Kristy leaves and I am still being a lazy grad student in the basement they are all alone. And they can't come walk on my face like I know they want to because of said door.

Every morning when I finally come upstairs and they hear the door open, I can hear them running full tilt from wherever they are to be in the living room when I get there. Which is really very sweet. But the best part is that when they get to the living room they very suddenly slow down and act like they were there the whole time, and didn't run to come see me. Because they are cats, and like to pretend like they don't need us. Like "Oh, you're here now? I had no idea, I've just been sitting idly here for hours. But I guess if you're here and you want to rub my tummy I wouldn't say no..."

And this happens every day.