The Nap Coach

Ginger the orange cat has a job she takes very seriously. She's a Nap Coach. When she senses a nap beginning anywhere in the house, she's there to make sure things are done right. 

She'll begin by lying on your chest, up close to your face. She's heavy. You're not going anywhere. Paw outstretched so it's next to your face, she mindmelds you, "Now, you've got to want this. Focus. Be the nap." Heavy, rhythmic purring helps you understand that this is serious and it's going to take some time. 

If, after some time with her heaviness compressing your chest, you haven't fallen asleep and want to readjust to your side, she's ready to lead that attempt, too, by planting herself on your hip. If you're not showing much promise, still trying to get the knack, and it's stomach-side-down you want, she's not giving up on you -- it goes without saying that she's got your back. Finally, after she feels she's been there for you, on you, for a sufficient amount of time, it's graduation time. She'll move up to the back of the couch, silent, close by, supervising, ready to get right back on your chest if you show signs of getting up. 

Long live Ginger, professional Nap Coach.

Let's give it a whirl

This is only a test. Should it have been an actual posting, you would have been instructed to read (okay, skim), engage and marvel at the wisdom and hilarity herein. 

But I can feel the extreme thrill already. As though I believe my random inklings should be considered by anyone besides me. Odditus maximus. 

Note: Thanks to my dearest friend Mauritania, for naming me Mallorca, which was already taken as a blog name by some German guy (Go figure. How is he more rightly Mallorca than me?) Y tu amiga soy yo.