The Quiet Company of a Cat Asleep in the Room

Juniper is sleeping on the chair across from my desk. For two hours, she’s been in a perfect circle with her tail wrapped around her nose. I can see her slow and steady breathing. Her gray and white fur rises and falls. Besides moving her paws once to tuck them in, she hasn’t budged.

Emails have been sent, notes have been reviewed, and drafts have been written. I have to look up to see her and there she is. Still asleep, still present.

Juniper doesn’t need me to play with her. She doesn’t need a walk, game, or conversation. She just needs to be near and that seems to be enough.

It’s different from having Copper nearby. When he’s in the room, he watches. He lifts his head whenever I stand up, ready to follow if I’m going somewhere interesting. He sits and sighs like he’s disappointed that the movement didn’t lead to anything. While gentle, his presence is more participatory.

Juniper is always sleeping next to me at my desk while I work. She does not need to keep track of me or how long I have been at my desk. She is calm and trusts that her surroundings are safe. There is no need to be vigilant or worried about the situation because she is confident it is a trustworthy environment.

For a long time, I thought I only enjoyed company that was very interactional. The kind of company where people respond to each other and they are interactive. I have come to recognize and appreciate the non interactive type, where there are no expectations of the other to engage. It is nice to be around another being where their presence is all that is needed, and no other interaction is required.

The presence of another being in the room can make it feel less empty in the same way a lamp can make a room feel more full. Even though the lamp might not be directly visible, it is known to be there and can be sensed. It can change the feeling of the room.

Sometimes I try to say her name to get Juniper to react, but she is not. She might twitch one of her ears, but there are no other signs that she has heard me. She is devoted to her nap so I have now faded to background noise like the chair or the window. I have now become just a fixture in the room.

There is comfort in being that for her. I like knowing that even though I am not giving her any direct attention, I am still worth something to her. It shows that she feels safe enough to sleep soundly to let her guard down completely.

My husband also works from home and has his own office. Juniper would often sleep in there. Over the course the last year, she’s started shifting her schedule. Some days she goes to him and other days she goes to me. Today, she chose my office.

I have no idea what’s going through her mind. I did not bribe her or call her in any way. She just walked into the office, hopped both the chair and my desk, and circled a few times before settling in, and she still has not moved.

This kind of small loyalty is the type that does not need to be announced. You only know it is there when you look up to see that she has been there for a long time, and is keeping you company while being silent.

I’ve finished the email I’ve been working on, and I look again. Still breathing. Still here.

I look at the clock again, and the time goes by so slowly. Juniper remains asleep, and without even knowing it, she has become a big part of the office.