I couldn’t blame Charlie for his contempt towards me. For weeks, months even, I spent every possible waking moment tapping out the words for my book. Some days I would forget to feed him; or myself for that matter. He used to try rubbing up against my legs or meowing at my feet to get some attention. It was a futile effort, since my passion for writing had consumed me completely. But all of that was about to change…
I leaned back in my chair, hands behind my head, fingers intertwined, with a look of undiluted satisfaction on my face. The next “Great American Novel” was complete. I smiled arrogantly at Charlie, but dreams of fame and fortune clouded my vision of him. I absentmindedly noticed his black furry body leaning up against the wall, tail swishing back and forth like a pendulum, as I mentally practiced my Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech.
Lost in my daydreams, rocking precariously back and forth on my chair, I suddenly lost my balance and went toppling over backwards. I hit my head hard on the marble coffee table behind me. Charlie didn’t budge. I couldn’t move and the world was starting to go black around the edges. Panic set in. Who would find me? How long would I lay here? As the light disappeared from the world, the last thing I saw was Charlie, watching me, his tongue lazily licking around his mouth. I think he was smiling.