Once you get a cat in your life, it's tough not to think of them once in a while. I'll be at work, sitting in my little cubicle and wondering what Socks might be up to. Is he playing with his toys? Watching the neighbors through the big window in the bedroom? Ordering pay per view movies on my Windows Media Center?
Usually when I get home, Socks is sacked out on the couch or the small chair in my living room. He greets me at the door, following me around and rubbing against my legs. I'll reach down and pet him a few minutes before checking out the litter box or changing out the water in his bowl.
I sometimes wonder what _he_ thinks I'm up to all day. One cat column I ran into noted that cats think humans are out hunting all day. If that's the case, they must think we're not very good at it - all we come home with are strange little yarn things with bells in them that are supposed to look like a mouse head and bits of food that smell vaguely like fish and chicken, but look like Cocoa Puffs.
On the weekends when I've been home, I've noticed how much Socks actually does sleep - one day, he spent most all day on the couch, curled up, dreaming of birds, mice or melted clock faces hanging on trees or whatever it is that cat's dream about. I suppose that the day can go by pretty quickly when your owner is away if you're just snoozing the whole time.
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