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A dip in the cushions startles me back to awareness, the slight panic of missing something important zinging under my skin. One minute, I was resting my eyes, practicing keeping my ears out for danger, the next it seems I've failed in my mission to guard the living room from intruders. Thankfully, it's just Jack returning to the comfort of the sofa after conjuring the crackling orange warmth. I groan and stretch out like a feline on my side, back arching in a pleasant C as I take stock of the tingles still radiating through my paws from a hard day's work.
We were all up early today, and I made sure to eat my breakfast fast so I wasn't late helping Jack. He had donned his outdoor clothes before the sun had risen over the horizon and gathered the worn yellow gloves that smelled like old leather and fresh cut wood. The sharp stick – the one that made big trees into smaller ones – leaned ready against the wall as the man kneeled heavily to lace up his boots. I was so excited because that meant more sticks for me to play with.
The blast of cold that hit me when the creaky wooden door opened chased away the lingering laziness. Immediately energized, I lapped the cabin a few times, patrolling for dangers and little pesky rodents. No one would blame me if I took a few frolicks in the powdery goodness as well, though. One lap was enough to make sure the humans were safe, the rest were just to feel the air in my lungs and the cold between my pads.
For some reason, these morning rituals always made the salt and pepper man smile and laugh. The joyful sound coming from the normally stoic human filled me with a sense of pride; I was able to make him do that. Of course, I couldn't simply stand by and be laughed at for performing my standard duties, so his punishment was to be my personal spring board. He sensed it coming, but it was fun to hear his shout of indignation when I planted my cold dirty paws on his chest and back flipped away to safety. He didn't disappoint in his retaliation; taking a big threatening step, I bowed down in my ready stance. He made to lunge forward and I quickly cut right, kicking up icy whiteness as I ran circles around his two-legged clumsiness. Tall, lanky, and lumbering, I could always dodge his oncoming attack, but occasionally, he'd get lucky and bowl me into the fluffy snow. When that happened, playful, rough-housing pats and scritches followed, making me writhe and nip at the zig zagging hand.
That hand, warm and sure, now languidly massages my head as the living room warms in the cool evening. Jack always gives the best pets, so steady and present; evenings like this are always my favorites after a busy day. I chance shifting closer, moving my head to rest on his thigh, hoping my change doesn't prompt an end to the attention he is paying me.
Humans do that sometimes, a change in their environment – a distraction to their current undertaking – causes them to wander away to whatever's next. It seems that Jack's mate is the cause for most of his wandering bouts. It happened today; seemingly in the middle of making more play sticks for me, Sam appeared outside. A soft looking hat with a tantalizing ball attached, adorned her head. She ushered in the pleasing aroma of bergamot and cedarwood that typically accompanies the humans after they've had their indoor rain bath.
Jack, always attuned to “The Woman's” presence, swung the sharp stick once more, burying it in a fat tree section, before turning and welcoming her into his arms for a quick face greeting. They murmured softly at each other, communicating in that strange way that humans do. I busied myself with inspecting the newly shaped sticks, taking my time to select the best one for chewing while keeping one eye on my people. Before I could select one, the two were striding away from the unfinished work, pulling out more human tools and dragging a plastic sheet along a trail to the woods. Knowing my services were needed, I followed dutifully, clearing the path of any hazards as we ventured on a new mission… I figured I'd get the briefing later.
Despite being forced away from stick crafting, I always enjoyed the trail walks. There were always new experiences to be had where other creatures had scurried through and left their scent. It was a bit overwhelming as I tried to track each trail, weaving this way and that. Occasionally, the man would holler at me, yanking my focus away. I knew that meant I'd ventured too far for their comfort, I needed to remain close to protect them from the forest monsters.
I’d never met one myself, but I know they're out there.
Eventually, the woman stopped Jack and stepped into the deeper fluff, pointing excitedly into the wooded area. She was smiling wide, it lit up her face in a way that made even myself smitten. She was beautiful and sweet. I could see why the salt and pepper man was taken by her and I took that moment to sit on the trail and observe their dynamics. Sam was looking at Jack, pure innocence in her puppy dog face; he had this funny little smirk plastered on that made him appear younger than he was. He said something and bobbed his head, causing the woman to burst out laughing, her megawatt smile dazzling the world around her. Then, he lumbered into where she was pointing, carrying the bladed tool.
A rhythmic zipping noise interrupted the quiet of the forest. I crept closer to Sam, peeking from behind the safety of her legs to ascertain what was causing the incessant ruckus. Before I could really figure out what the man was doing, bent over and grunting, a loud crack and pop assaulted my ears. He stepped away from a rather large needle tree as it leaned and groaned. I scrambled backwards as it whooshed towards me, remembering at the last minute to grab at the sleeves of Lady Sam to pull her away from the danger. She spared me a glance and followed, reaching out and rewarding my heroic behavior with a soft stroke between the ears.
“It's alright, Maggie,” Sam's smooth and confident croon settled me.
Another loud crack, this time not from a forest, but from across the room. The log, enveloped by the dancing heat, spit and startled me from the lazy recollection of the day.
“It's alright, Mags,” the man's deep soothing voice came from above, one hand still sweeping along my back, the other pointing and clicking on that plastic not chew toy that somehow made different pictures flash on the box across the room. My tail thumped happily at the attention, acknowledging his consideration of me.
I can hear the woman humming in the next room, the soft noises that accompany rummaging adding to the safety and familiarity of home.. She is preparing something, and there's a pull in my gut to go investigate. I breathe in deep, testing the air for any heady food aromas. Finding none, I sigh out again, becoming a puddle and letting my body melt further into Jack's lap.
So comfy.
My pseudo pillow huffs a chuckle at my antics as my eyes slip closed, fluttering at the twinkle of blue, green, and red lights on the tree perched in the corner. It's still giving off a chill from the outside, crisp and cool like it hasn't been tamed like the other beings in this dwelling.
I didn't understand why the humans had to wrestle it into the house. When we arrived back after dragging it through the woods, I expected to resume our work from earlier. Chop and stack, chop and stack. Instead, the two humans started wrangling the green beast through the front door. It seemed to complain the whole time, dropping needles by the dozens and thumping against cabinets in the kitchen. The man was letting out a constant stream of growls that encouraged me to give him a wide berth. I stuck close, anyway, determined to see the mission through.
Finally, after many attempts to stand it back up straight, the man and woman stood admiring their efforts in the living room. I sat confused in the doorway to the kitchen wondering what purpose there was to bring a live stick into the house. Evermore perplexing, the tall man dragged a haggard looking box up from the forbidden room, traversing the skeleton stairs like the nonexistent backings weren't an unconquerable obstacle.
His bravery was unmatched.
The woman, seemingly always in motion, set about waking the singing box. The rotating disk crooned a low melody that caused the two humans to mellow and glide around the cabin with rhythm. It provided a backdrop to their activity, pulling lights and nick nacks out of the basement box. Each new item dangling from a needled branch looked enticingly like a toy, but after a stern look from Jack, I learned to look but not touch. This ritual continued, interrupted occasionally by a brief interlude of touching and shuffling from the couple when the melody changed.
I felt peace from my perch on the worn flannel blanket elevated from dangerous clomping. I kept watch, ensuring the bubble the two hovered in remained intact, free from outside interference. The tap tap of their feet kept me entertained as the man would try spinning or dipping the woman. She'd laugh or squeal in a light-hearted tone.
A steady tap tap from the kitchen twitched my ear, breaking the reverie. Sam called out softly and I felt Jack’s reply rumble from his chest. A short time later, she appeared holding two mugs, steam dancing up from the hot liquid, softening her entrance and making her look ethereal.
I grumble at the invasion.
The man was already shifting his positioning, creating an upheaval to my hard-earned comfort. He pays me no mind, making happy sounds as his mate nears. She doesn't immediately displace me, I'm too far into Jack's lap for that. She just settles in close, her upper body finding home in the space under the man's arm. I lose my scratching hand as Jack abandons my fur to caress Sam's shoulder, his other hand becoming occupied by a hot cup. My tail squishes between their thighs pressing against one another and I make a frustrated sound, kicking out to demonstrate my displeasure.
More grumbling, this time from them as I cause a spill. I know I'm infringing now, and I huff dramatically before slinking off the couch.
It was getting too warm there anyway.
I flop down by the tree instead, a perfect view of the exits and a prime vantage point to keep an eye on the love birds. They spare me a sweet look, content and syrupy, before resuming their nuzzling. The woman has solidly taken my spot now. I'm a little jealous, but I can't be too mad; she doesn't get to spend every day with my Jack like I do, and he always seems a little sad when she is away.
It doesn't take long for the exhaustion to creep back in as my two people get lost in their own world, hands slowly brushing and lips smacking gently. Sighing at their antics, I let myself drift off, my annoyance at being displaced melting away with the knowledge my pack is safe and whole.