A soft purr, hum, or chirp wakes me up in the morning. More often than not, she wakes me up far too late—after I’ve already slept the day away. After the sun has become white instead of golden and it’s too late for breakfast. She rubs her face on my nose, hoping to stir my affection enough for me to pet her—always behind her ears—and never stop. Once she realizes that I’m just annoyed and not adored, she jumps off of my bed, leaving small tufts of fur as reminders of her, and scratches the door until she is let out by either me or my housemate.

Once she has left, only then will I attempt to throw myself off of my bed. Why would I stay in bed when I have a friend to sleep with? So, I take a breath and throw my legs off, hoping that my body isn’t too heavy to lift today. I hear her cooing at my door, beckoning me into the kitchen. She’s as hungry as I am in need of coffee.

It’s a quit morning—one I am in desperate need of. Work has been so lousy lately; it seems that no matter how hard you try, things will never go entirely the way you want them to. I’m grateful for the quiet. For a kettle and for coffee. For my sweet Scottie, who is now all but yelling at me to make him his gourmet meal from the can. As soon as I do, he begins to lick the bowl clean and my kettle screams, letting me know the water is ready.

I lift the kettle from my gas stove, letting it hang heavy for a moment. I maybe let of hang just a bit too long; if I had anyone to watch me, they might worry. But I don’t. Only my sweet Scottie, who joins me at my desk with my coffee to really start the day.

I open my sole copy of Malpeza, it’s contents glowing gold and warm. Man, I miss when we would congregate to celebrate and learn and mourn and laugh and cry all over this book. This book has since been forbidden, and we practice those same things alone. Well, alone with the Malpeza. Scottie walks on its pages, begging for attention, and tries to get under my hand. If I move my hand away, he’ll follow and settle under my gentle touch. So, I move my right hand away and leave my left hand free to turn pages.

This isn’t how it used to be.