My Fuzzy Muse

A Cover Is Worth A Thousand Words Summer Star by D.J. Davis

My Fuzzy Muse

My fuzzy muse is very spoiled, as you can see…

My toys, all mine!

My fuzzy muse is a nine year old tortoiseshell named Francis. She’s a she, though many people mistake her for a boy because I guess Francis is a boy’s name? (She’s named after an old friend, who is male, but it’s his last name.) Almost all tortoiseshells are girls because their coloring comes from the X chromosome. I got her has a kitten, and she’s always been a rather small cat, if you don’t count her circumference.

My fuzzy muse has a wonky eye…

Eye see you.

She was born with a permanently dilated eye, something that makes her look pretty funny in the light. The vet says she’s fine though, and probably still sees better than most humans. She also has a malformed septum that makes her snore a lot, but she’s healthy and happy and just a little damaged, and we love her all the more for it. She often closes her dilated eye in direct light, which makes her look like she’s winking at you.

My fuzzy muse is very much a momma’s baby. She always needs to be touching me. If I’m sitting or lying down she stretches out so she can be pressed against me, and when I’m standing she often leans against my legs. It must be torturous for her when I’m not home! She’s there when I write, and when I edit, and helpfully stretches herself out on my writing planner so I can’t see it or wedges herself between me and the laptop so I have a soft place to rest my arms. Quite helpful!

Now, my fuzzy muse is tired and needs a comfortable-looking nap…