Help Wanted

The cat meows. I, at the computer, look up.

It’s Tucker, in the office entrance, watching me with a steady jade gaze. “What is it?” I ask. “What do you need? Are you hungry? Do you need water?” Rising, I check the dishes, confirming he has those available. He follows me, watching with expectation. “Do you want out?” I indicate the front door. He watches me.

I grow exasperated. “What, you just want to be scratched? You want a belly rub? Do you want on my lap?”

He watches me, silent, but he is thinking, “Why is he asking me all those questions? I said I wanted catnip. I was very clear.

“He is getting old. I might need to replace him.”