Piano Pest

Definitely not enough room for 2 on the chair

                Jersey has decided on 4:00 p.m.  That is now her official time to be held, cuddled, and loved.  It just so happens that 4:00 is smack dab in the middle of piano lessons.  Each day goes something like this--she comes up to the bench and greets the student de jour who graciously pets her back and scratches her chin.  Then we return to the business of playing piano music.

                Not to be put off, Jersey moves on to me, insisting on attention with a series of head butts and leg pawing.  Her most persuasive maneuver is giving “the look.”  Boy, does she have a look I can’t ignore!  It bores right through me and locks on so tight I can’t turn away.  She would make a great study hall monitor if she were human. 

                I finally cave in and pick her up to end the distraction.  She snuggles in and purrs happily on my lap for a good thirty seconds before I need my hands free to teach.  As much as I like using words, it takes five times longer to explain “play it like this____” than to demonstrate, so Jersey gets returned to the ground.

                This doesn’t end her quest.  If I’m forward enough in my chair, she tucks in behind me and then very gradually spreads out until I’m on the last five inches of the seat.  It’s like the bed territory war all over again.  Other times she takes over the piano bench, sneakily claiming the surface bit by bit until the student has slid so far to the right that he/she can only reach the highest octave.

                How does Jersey get away with it?  We’re never quite sure.  Her territory grab is so gradual it goes unnoticed until we’re completely out of space.  Also, as I’ve mentioned before, she’s a comfort cat—good a lulling us into a sense of ease.

                I haven’t figured out what to do about this situation.  It seems kind of heartless to lock an arthritic old lady out of the room when all she wants is to be loved.  I am such a pushover!