This chair is my favourite chair in my house.  It sits in front of my natural gas stove.  On cold mornings and cold evenings, I like to recline in it and scorch my feet against the artificial fire until I can feel the first degree burns begin.  I have a heat fetish.  The chair can rock and it can recline so that you can lay stretched out flat and sleep with an old crotched comforter for added warmth.  

Sometimes for a change of pace, I will stand in front of my stove and warm my backside until it glows red. The cats like the stove as well.  They lounge in front of it, all three joined together in one mass of feline furness.   No one fights in front the the fire. We are all equal.  

A  friend got the pilot light lit  for me and the season of burns could begin.  This morning, the house was cool enough to rationalize sparking up the stove.  It felt wonderful, my butt was happy, the cats were happy, I was happy.

But...I had to go to work, the day was going to be sunny and warm and I could not rationalize leaving the heat going all day.  So I turned if off and went to work.  I am usually gone for about 10-11 hours depending on my commute and stops made along the way home.  I got home late.  The house was beginning to chill down a bit so I decided that I would have my first evening in front of the fire and scorching the feet session.  Yes, it is still only late August but I needed a treat after a long day.

I had my dinner, I made my tea.  I retrieved my chocolate bar from the fridge (a Zero; they are hard to find but worth a diabetic coma)  I went to my chair.  I looked.  There was a neat pile of cat vomit-still in the shape of cat chow-in the middle of the seat.  Now the hard part.  Deciding who is responsible.   I finally narrowed to down to Rico, The Neurotic Cat.  Fred does not like the chair, he prefers to sleep on my laptop bag.  Majic only sleeps on his towel on my bed. Rico had expressed some anger that morning over his small share of the BBQ chicken.  Too much skin and not enough meat was his issue.  It had to be him.  I called him. He came running with the expectation of more chicken.  I showed him the vomit.  He nodded and looked at me. He was taking ownership.  It is impossible to punish a cat. So, I cleaned up the mess.  Now I sit in my chair warming my feet and my laptop as I write. 

Rico The Neurotic Cat is sitting tea kettle style, paws tucked under,tail curled around with his ass to the flames. He is watching me with winking eyes.  He knows that tomorrow, his share of the BBQ chicken will have more meat than skin.