The black form arose silently from the floor onto my lap. In spite of her full grown-cat weight, Sherlock's touch was so gentle that I hardly felt her land. She walked back and forth a few times to get her bearings, then began rubbing the top of her head on my leg. Sherlock stopped rubbing, lay down on my lap, and looked up at me, purring and batting those deep green eyes up into mine.
“What?” Silence, as she rubbed adoringly against my leg, occasionally glancing sideways at me. She wouldn't talk to me while Rose was in the room. Sherlock can talk, but only to me. She only speaks when we're alone. She rolled halfway over to look at Rose, then back over to me. Sitting up, she rubbed my cheek, then lay down for a rest.
Rose left for the kitchen. The black tail swished, then Sherlock sat up to nuzzle my right cheek. “There's no monitor in here, Gary,” she whispered. “What about a video? The one with the nuthatch and the squirrel.” “I've been at that monitor all day, Sherlock.” “You don't need to sit there with me, Gary. Just start the video. I'll sit in your chair and watch it.” It was a pleading purr. “That never works, Sherlock. Either Emily chases you out, or you lose focus and run off.” “It'll be different this time. You'll see.” “OK,” I said, and off we went to my computer, where all good cat videos were bookmarked. That is what computers are for.
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