He paused his kneading to blink at me.

“Yes, I know it’s a very arbitrary rule,” I said. “You are by no means a ‘pet.’ You’re more like a visiting cousin or friend.”

He went back to kneading. I took this as agreement.

“Is that the argument we will present for our defense?” I asked. “Because you know, and I know, that when I leave this house tomorrow morning, there is going to be a note. There’s always a note.”

He yawned. He hunkered deeper into his blanket and closed his eyes. A belly full of tuna will do that to you. I yawned as well. There was something very comforting about having another living being, aside from the plants, in the house.

I picked up the romantic comedy I’d been working my way through and settled in to read. I laughed a few times, cried once, and then my head began to bob and I found myself dream reading. You know, when you’re still reading but also dreaming. I had to go back and read the same paragraph three times before I realized I was actually asleep and nothing made sense. I put the book aside.

My new buddy was still snoozing. I didn’t have the heart to give him the boot. Instead, I shut off all the lights and left the French door open just a crack so he could leave when he wanted and not pee on my new red area rug. Then I went to bed.

Halfway through the night, I felt the bed dip by my feet and the little guy made a soft mewling sound before he curled up into the backs of my knees. Again, I didn’t have the heart to oust him. It was cold at night, dropping into the forties, and it would just be cruel to make him leave. I fell back asleep.

When I awoke in the morning, he was gone. I tried not to feel used but, honestly, no good morning nuzzle? No purr? Nothing? So rude.

Much to my surprise, when I left the house for work, there was no note attached to my door. I felt a strange pang of disappointment. There was something about those finger-wagging notes that made me feel as if I hadn’t completely lost my artistic edge—my rebellious streak, if you will—as I donned work clothes and headed out to my new corporate life.

While I enjoyed working with other designers and I felt that I had a lot to contribute artistically to the company, there was no question that working in an office for me was like trying to style bangs that had been cut too short. There was nothing I could do but hope that time and growth made it look less awkward.