Mom As A Magnet ~ A Tale of (No) Personal Space

What is it about being a Mother that draws them to us?
Our inherent, nurturing nature?
The, often deceiving, well-practiced look of saintly patience?
Our ability to listen, at length, to philosophical waxing, on all manner of topics from nail polish and gossip to the power of trading cards and all things strange, mystifying and plastic?

Shh. 
It's okay to take the credit!
They don't have to know that we are simply half deaf now and too tired for any other expression!


While I am glad that my two-legged children seem to have a deep seeded fondness for me,
I have to wonder at the pointed penchant the four-legged crew holds for me, as well.
Invariably, as I sit down in my office, the cat seeks me out,
as her personal jungle gym,
preventing me from any meaningful effort or accomplishment.

As I try to shuffle her over to one shoulder and fervently hope her tail will stop twitching across my face,
I wonder do I possess some special Mother scent, a pheromone perhaps?
Or is it simply, that I am, by default, the feeder of the pet crew
and she is hoping to persuade me into an extra meal?
Inquiring is an exercise in futility.
She merely makes herself more at home.

Ah, well.
The tasks can wait until tomorrow,
when there will be, as typical,
more to do than time or energy permit.

This day weary Mom is off to bed.
The Labrador will wait until I settle
and then find his spot
with Mom as his pillow for the night.

Cat Image.