The Writer’s Cat
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PART ONE
The Writing Brigade / An Unlikely Alliance
Published: November 1, 2025
Last Updated: November 1, 2025
Chapter 4:
"Easy enough"
The writer was taking things seriously. He was constantly reminding everyone of that. He pointed out how he was often wearing the most serious of his writerly sweaters—the grey one with a red feather on it—in further proof of his commitment to the work.
In contrast, Dot the cat was tired and feeling burned out. She took this as a bad sign since she was still just starting out in the writing field. Three full days had passed since her theatrical attack on the calendar. But since then, she hadn’t felt a sense of accomplishment for some time. And honestly, she was feeling less invested in the whole article endeavor.
There was a part of her that felt confident that the three of them could help make sure that PJ delivered on this full-length article for the regional literary magazine. She was just unsure of how that was supposed to happen. They still didn’t even have a topic.
Tired, stressed, and floppy—those were three words that currently described Dot the cat. Even though she was following the three pillars of eating, sleeping, and doing her job, she was still not feeling up to her usual one hundred percent. And she had just woken up from her morning nap!
Now, she was sitting in front of her food bowl. Her tail fidgeted behind her as she stared at it, willing for a morsel or two to appear. She knew a good meal or snack would put her back on the right track.
“It’s not lunchtime yet,” PJ said, crouched next to her. He had wrapped up his stretches on the rug for the day and was putting on his brown loafers that he thought made him look even more like a serious writer. “Today is a day where I can get some real momentum. But if you are begging for food the whole time, then who knows if I’ll get anything done? You should be as focused and prepared as I am.”
“Look. See?” PJ said, standing up to show her his outfit. Admittedly, Dot thought that the ensemble, along with the grey knit sweater, made him look like he was ready for the day. He was definitely more ready than she was.
Dot felt a little ashamed as she had to admit she wasn’t even that hungry. She had eaten breakfast already and was mostly looking for a treat. It was nice to hear the writer talking so much about working today—but sometimes the human would put some treats in her bowl if she just sat there. It had happened before. And she couldn’t help seeing if it would happen again.
The little cat looked up at him and meowed since she really did think she could be more helpful if she had a treat first.
“You’re fine, Dot. No more treats until after we get work done.”
Dot looked away from the writer and back at her bowl, grumpy with that answer. He probably just didn’t understand how she could be that much more effective with just a little food. And she remembered that he wasn’t always at his best either.
She could easily recall how he hadn’t always been so prepared to work in the past few days, for example. Once, he had been seated at his computer, the screen open on a blank text document, all upright and hands ready to type, when he just sat there looking at it. At some point, he blurted out “Bathroom!” and then quickly shut the computer before heading to the little tiled room next to his bed. He hadn’t opened up the computer for the rest of the day after that, despite talking about it a lot.
But, still, none of this was an excuse for dropping the ball herself. So, she decided in that moment that she would ignore the urge to try to see how many treats she could get out of PJ. Instead, she would focus on the possibilities of what their team could accomplish that day and push through her stress and anxiety.
“Let’s see, I’m dressed, I’m warmed up…” PJ was saying, going through a mental checklist. “Should I meditate? Well, I don’t know how to meditate. And I don’t have time to do the research on that. Hmm. What else?”
The hardworking young man turned around in a circle as he tried to see what else he could possibly do before starting to write.
“Hmm,” he said again. “Now that I think about it, maybe I should give a treat to the cat anyway, as I’m in the kitchen.”
Dot’s ears perked up at the potential good news.
“Of course. That will help settle her and then there will be nothing to stop me from writing,” PJ said. He seemed extremely satisfied with the logic, and wandered over to where he kept the crinkly bag of treats. In a matter of moments, he was dropping a few chicken-flavored crunchy treats in the cat’s food bowl.
A mental thought of “Success!” went through her head as she immediately dove in, happy with both getting a reward and helping at the same time.
These treats were just great, and helped calm her at least for a while, since she couldn’t stop looking at the foreboding calendar pages on the wall. They were always there, looming over the laptop and telling her how badly the team could fall behind on the article they needed to deliver to the magazine.
“Okay, that’s done,” PJ said, before glancing at his desk in the opposite corner. He started to move toward it, but then he coughed and turned away instead. “Oh, but the bed. I should probably make the bed. I’ll do that first.”
After scarfing down her treats, Dot had nestled into the blankets clumped up on the bed that PJ was referencing and completely missed this change of course. She was just calmly grooming herself to prepare for the rest of the day. So, she was quite surprised to find herself moved unceremoniously away from the comfy spot she had dug out.
Soon, she found herself back on the floor in wide-eyed surprise, but she was quick to adapt and look for other free spots in the apartment. In no time at all, she discovered a new position to take over, this time on the desk that PJ hadn’t sat at all morning. From there, she watched her roommate doing something strange, pulling blankets off, and then putting them on again tidily, and making the pillows all fluffy. She had never seen him do this.
“There, bed made,” PJ said, nodding to himself and turning back to his desk. “Yes, conditions are pretty much perfect. Wait—Dot, now you’re on the computer again. Haven’t we talked about this? That’s hypothetical. We’ve definitely talked about this.”
Dot groomed unconcerned now, though. This was her own form of meditation to be fresh for the rest of the day. Plus, he had been the one who moved her and helped her see the sun patch hitting the desk just so. It was as though he had been suggesting she go there in the first place.
“Come on, this is the day,” PJ said, trying to nudge the cat over unsuccessfully. Then he added another comment that made it seem like she definitely had more time to get settled.
“Oh, wait,” PJ said with a sudden burst of energy. “That plant needs water, right? If we want it to stay alive, of course. I should take care of that too before anything else.”
Dot curiously tried to look at the plant he was referring to, which was right behind. She tilted her head back and saw nothing out of the ordinary with it. It still seemed half-dead, but the water probably wouldn’t hurt it. It deserved it, she supposed. It was doing a good job of being a writer’s plant in that it sat there and didn’t really do anything.
They were all doing their part, which was a great feeling for the cat after how the day had started. With PJ really including them in the day’s activity and everyone in position to get to work, Dot started to feel quite confident that the three-month timeline wasn’t such a scary challenge after all. She just wouldn’t think about the notes that still hadn’t materialized.
Dot basked in the little piece of sunshine that was still spilling onto her part of the desk, and otherwise ignored the apartment as she digested her snack, soaked in the sun, and just let her mind wander to an imaginary journey down a long dirt road…
“Guard! Guard!” the inventor said, louder than just a moment ago, muffled slightly by the curtains drawn over his doors.
No response came as the inventor’s party continued on the narrow road that reached back through the grassy plains around them. They could still see the Bustling Town of Urk, but it was now much smaller in the distance after traveling for two days, and starting to look more like a smudge.
“Oh, she’s wandered off,” Lily said, leaning over the side and shouting to the inventor as Old Man Horse continued to plod forward, pulling the traveling cart on wheels behind him.
Dottie wasn’t that far away from the wagon yet, but she was intent on getting away from the sound of a complaining inventor, so Lily wasn’t inaccurate. A little way up ahead, the guard held a thumbs-up into the air for the driver to see and continued walking.
“Maybe she’s scouting ahead,” Lily said, yelling down to Inventor Jefferson so that he got the gist of what was happening and would quiet down.
“Scouting what?” Inventor Jefferson yelled back. “How could she just leave? She should be here, helping me inventory things in the trunk. I don’t care if we’re still moving. I can’t start inventing if I don’t have an exact inventory of things that we have that I can work with.”
“Well,” Lily said loudly in return, thinking about her own role while the amateur guard wasn’t present. “My job, as negotiated, is just to drive the cart. I hope you don’t expect me to do anything about it. Just here to drive the cart.”
“It’s a wagon! For traveling!”
“Yes, that’s what I said. It’s my job to drive the wagon. Although, I don’t know if ‘wagon’ sounds more sophisticated than ‘cart,’” Lily said, trailing off. “And, whatever you want to call it—it’ll be mine as soon as we get to Lilypad anyway.”
“What? What was that? Speak up!”
“Oh, never mind,” Lily said louder, banging on the wagon.
The “scouting” guard could still hear all of the lively conversation behind, but it was at least a little quieter as she got some distance between the wagon and the people still on it.
Dottie sighed with relief as she had finally escaped from the nagging sound of her employer, who always insisted on staying “safely” inside the wagon where he could continue to relay frequent commands, questions, and tasks. She had had enough for the moment, and since the forest’s tree line was starting to come into view ahead of them, it seemed within her duties to go take a look. Perfectly reasonable to jog ahead of the wagon—and create some easy distance as a result of Old Man Horse’s sedate pace.
She had enjoyed being out of the settled lands when she had first traveled between her home in the Diligent Town of Rot all the way over to the Bustling Town of Urk. In comparison to how things were most of her life, it was empty, quiet, and free of that grimy feeling she associated with being in town. It wasn’t perfect, naturally, as there was the lingering darkness and bleak surroundings to consider. Also, there was the ever-present mix of clouds overhead that, for now, was quite nonthreatening and giving off a neutral gray.
Out here, on the first leg of their travels, they were just on a rustic road that crossed a monotonous swath of plains. Dottie had looked around as they rolled on their way, but there wasn’t anything of interest close by. It was just a lot of the high yellowish brush that continued to swoosh and crackle very slightly in the lightest breeze. It was just as empty and featureless as any other place outside of Urk that she had seen already—which is why she felt the need to explore when she spotted a change ahead of them.
It was the perfect opportunity to scout ahead and get a glimpse of a completely new part of the region she had grown up in. Although after a few minutes, on closer examination, Dottie found it was less exciting and more...something else.
The forest they were approaching was clearly a different beast altogether from the open plains behind them. It was a dark, prickly thing with sparse shrubbery leading to thick woods. The guard had to admit it looked a bit gloomy. And, while still hard to make out, the mountains far beyond, where their ultimate destination lay, could be felt as a looming presence on the other side of the forest.
“Huh,” Dottie said to herself, feeling the chill more than normal and huddling further into her cloak. She also gripped her trusty rake for extra reassurance. It was just a tool from back on the little homestead she grew up on, but it helped scare off birds and made her feel better if nothing else. “Lonely out here when no one else is around. Doesn’t bother me, though. Nope, not at all.”
She glanced back at the cart and the horse ambling along in front of it, a hundred meters or so behind her. Behind the brick-shaped wagon, the long road stretched out behind them toward the dark spot that was Urk. It was all flat, boring plains back there—quite a bit of it by now, after making it this far.
Dottie turned back to the forest ahead of them, and decided to use the time to prepare for whatever obstacles might lie ahead. She started doing some stretches and swinging her rake to see how it felt. She even tried out a few made-up attacks for whenever Rider’s Block showed up, if it ever did, while she waited for the cart to catch up to her.
She nodded to herself after executing a sweeping low movement that she called “raking up the leaves.” Dottie thought this was as good preparation as any. And if she could say she was doing her job, she rationalized, then she could get on Jefferson’s case about hurrying up with inventing something good for the town of Lilypad so that they would have to take them all in.
The lounging cat made a half-hearted swipe with her claws as she mimicked her imaginary guard duties. Then the cat suddenly found herself blinking her eyes, pulled away from that other world, as she was shifted from her sunny spot on top of PJ’s laptop…
Dot the cat was confused. The pocket of warmth she was enjoying had suddenly disappeared, and she had been scooted over, ending up next to the grey-green plant thing in its cracked pot.
She looked up and saw the writer PJ looking at her.
“I’m not joking around,” PJ said, sternly. He pointed to his face to emphasize his current attitude.
Dot was taken aback. She could tell that PJ wasn’t in a joking mood, but she wasn’t sure what was happening yet. She was just trying to wake up a bit since she had been very comfortable in the sun patch.
“I’m almost ready to get down to business here—are you?” PJ asked, tone skeptical and eyebrow raised.
Dot couldn’t help but yawn back at him in response. She thought she couldn’t be that far behind—but froze mid-thought as she saw the apartment seemed off somehow. Too orderly? It was all extra tidy. The plant looked slightly alive. And PJ was now seated at his desk, which was normally a rarity. He looked like he was going to write and take notes on a little yellow, lined notepad he had scrounged up from somewhere.
Her jaw snapped shut. How had she missed all of this? She was so far behind. Again! The writer was actually about to put pen to paper, and she was clearly not prepared.
It was around this time, when Dot was really starting to shame herself for slowing them down for the second time that day, that PJ’s stomach growled extremely loudly in the quiet of the apartment.
“Wait, is it lunchtime?” PJ asked the cat and the plant, putting a hand to his stomach.
The cat brightened at that, thinking that she might still have time to catch up and save some face in the situation. If he had to take a break for food, that would mean she wasn’t late—it would be at least a solid hour before the real work began.
“No! No,” PJ said, muttering to himself. He put his hands on the table to steady himself. “No lunch right now. That’s what derailed me yesterday. I’ll have a late lunch. Sometimes sacrifices must be made.”
Dot coughed in disappointment, and groomed an ear on one side as she mulled over her options. But there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there? She’d just have to do her job and try to keep up. If she stumbled, she would just pick herself up and get back into the thick of things. Who knew how fast they would move now that PJ was getting up to speed with the actual writing?
Reinvigorated, the cat shook out her fur, feeling better after taking a mental inventory of the situation. She could do this, she knew. She sat up, at a height a little taller than that of the potted plant, and decided to stare at PJ as a sign of both trust in his solid work ethic and her promise to be a good teammate.
Dot wasn’t going to speak for the plant, but she was happy to communicate her commitment to the cause with a deliberate and piercing stare filled with solidarity. She knew that PJ would appreciate the support.
“Stop that. That’s weird, don’t stare at me,” the writer said, leaning back in his chair, and then turning his eyes to the blank text document and empty notepad before him. “I know you might be thinking I’m taking too long here, that I might be all talk. But I already have a good train of thought in motion. Which just leaves putting it down on paper. Easy enough…”
A bird caw-cawed out the window, and PJ flinched.
Dot looked over, worried at that—and for good reason. The writer would normally see who had decided to perch on the branch outside, since it was such an obvious source of inspiration. But PJ glanced at Dot. She was confused yet delighted when he nodded to her and didn’t get up from his chair after all.
“Right, I can look at the next bird that comes along,” PJ said, firming his expression. “There is no time to get distracted. I’ll just go ahead and…wait, is that Cooper?”
Dot’s ears twitched as she had also heard something from the hallway.
“Yeah…” PJ said, holding up a hand. “I’m pretty sure that is Cooper.”
It was obvious whenever Lily Cooper was delivering mail, as it was the part of the day accompanied by the sounds of someone entering the front hallway, the heavy steps of that person stomping inside, and the clang of mailboxes dropping into place. And this was exactly what was happening right then.
Both PJ and Dot looked toward the door out of reflex as they had become accustomed to this break in the monotony of their day—when the writer tried to converse with the mail delivery person, often unsuccessfully.
Dot stopped herself, and thumped her tail against the wall instead of going to listen more closely to what the mail delivery person was up to. She stared up with big eyes at PJ, his expression uncomfortable, and watched as he resisted the urge to go talk to another human being. Fortunately for them both, victory was achieved when he turned slightly away from the sounds outside his door and took a deep, calming breath.
“That’s it. Absolutely no more distractions—it’s decided,” PJ said, picking out a pen from the drawer in his desk. “Dot, if you could keep it down with the fidgeting, that would really help out a lot. Be like Zombie Plant. Quiet and diligent.”
Dot couldn’t help but lash her tail in response, thinking that it was easy to be a quiet and diligent plant. They didn’t move. It was an unfair comparison.
And yes, she did realize she was now fidgeting, just like PJ asked her not to. But honestly, he was, too. He was tapping his pen against the table and kept touching the notebook on his desk. It didn’t help that today of all days, Cooper was on a phone call with her office, talking loudly enough to be heard while doing her mail delivery duties.
PJ groaned and closed his eyes at all the interruptions, while the plant and the cat both did their best to try to focus on the task at hand.
“Alright, yes, what was I doing…” PJ said, opening his eyes again and then looking at the screen in front of him. “Ah, right. I was just going to put a header on this. That’s important.”
He typed something on the top of the text document. He looked at it, unsure what to do next. After a pause, he picked up his pen again and turned his attention to the notepad next to him. On it, he scrawled out the same heading in large letters: “Ideas.”
“There, do you see this?” PJ said, grunting afterward in the affirmative. “A big title is always a good way to start.”
Dot looked at PJ with big eyes in astonishment at his progress, and thus the whole writing team’s. She blinked at him encouragingly as she believed in the man. Everything he was saying was making sense.
“Hey, I’m getting there!” PJ said, looking away from her and misinterpreting her feline expression once again. He went back to looking at the computer screen instead. “Okay, I just need to start adding ideas and close in on what my article should be about. It needs to be good enough for a hit feature. A topic with some depth. But which one?”
He tapped his pen against his desk as Dot and the plant both waited for what would happen next. The cat’s ears trembled and twitched a bit, as the only sign of her anticipation. And the plant probably just grew some additional small amount of fungi or something.
“Alright, here it is,” he said, glancing at Dot and then looking back to his open computer. “I’ll write about…”
There was a beat of silence as everyone waited for the end of his sentence.
“Cats!” PJ said, and then wrote it down proudly on his notepad. He froze, and then turned to also type it into his text document. He looked briefly over at Dot, who was looking at him with big eyes and a lazily swooshing tail now.
She couldn’t be happier with this topic. And it seemed like it was time for them to start writing, now that they had such a great starting point. But then, PJ stopped himself in his own tracks, metaphorically speaking.
“No, outer space!” PJ exclaimed, obviously excited, before regaining control of himself. “Cats are…uninspired. Space! That’s the final frontier.”
Dot’s ears drooped at that change in direction. She yawned at the man to express her contradictory opinion.
PJ didn’t register this and instead was raising his pen slowly as another piece of enlightenment dawned on him.
“Oh, and also…boats? There’s something there, too.”
PJ started to write down his two ideas to replace his epiphany around “cats” immediately. Dot tried not to take offense at the quick turn of events and the writer’s flawed opinions about cats, especially compared to his view of outer space and…boats.
Still, regardless of these ups and downs, Dot was encouraged by the sheer volume of words PJ was writing both on paper and on his computer. After almost a week and a half into his three-month window, there was written evidence that they were moving forward. She settled onto her haunches in a more relaxed pose, and waited to see what else the writer’s current momentum would take them toward, even if it wasn’t cats. She knew the writer just didn’t know better, as she was the expert on that topic—not him.
Dot was sure that this momentum was indicative of great things to come, and was already something to be proud of. Plus, there was even a late lunch to look forward to, not too far in the future.