Tippy Tappy

I watch her a lot as she sits there typing away. Sometimes it’s like she’s in another world but she’s kind of happy at the same time.

Now I don’t know but I’m guessing that these are the good times. It doesn’t always last, we get the good stuff and then for some weird reason she will hit delete and wipe the lot.

It does not make sense to me, all that effort and then boom it’s all gone with the flick of a finger.

I’ve noticed that humans are weird like that, especially the ones who tap away. They get lost in this secret little world inside their own heads. Sometimes it seems to an outside observer like me that they go in there and can’t find the way out again.

My one cares she really does. We have these big waves of emotion. The world can be wonderful, bigtime sunshine and rainbows. I like that except that she just wants me gone so that she can tap some more.

Some days the sky will fall in and I have to be there for her to hug. The worst times are the ones in between when she wants to do the tappy tappy bit but she has to go do something else. Them’s the pits let me tell you.

She like a horse wanting to run but someone says no, today you have to work. It upsets her because any damned fool can see that she would much rather be doing the happy tappy on her keyboard.

She gets tired and cranky and then I have to watch out. If she slept like any sensible being instead of waking up and scribbling at some ridiculous hour we would all be a lot happier.

Of course, I have tried to help but I’m not sure it’s appreciated. I’ve suggested stuff but that didn’t work too well and the headphones went in.

Sometimes I just want to leap in there and pull the ideas right out of her head when they won’t come. I even tried having a go at the old tippy tappy myself, she went nuts!

Now I just sit and watch, I let her cry when it all goes a bit wrong and laugh with joy when the right bit comes out of her head.

I don’t know why she puts herself through all this I really don’t.

Analysis is not my strong point, but it seems like it’s a thing with the tappy ones. They can soar like birds or drop like a stone but they carry on because they must.

Something drives them on and I can only hope that one day they find what they are looking for. Then they can sleep and concentrate on other important stuff.

But to them there is nothing more important, even getting my tea has to wait. Is it any wonder I sometimes have to give her a nudge.

Seriously who would would ever want to be a writers cat?

Categories Short story, UncategorizedTags , ,

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