Helpers

Working away at all hours of the day & night is pretty much a solitary task. There are several things that happen for the old gray matter during those times. Much time is spent just thinking through the task at hand--what are the next steps, what will I do to solve that problem up ahead, etc. But there's this other whole flight of ideas--what to make for dinner, is that load of laundry finished yet, wonder who that was on the phone I heard Jim answer, I wonder if the intended receiver of this project will like it, what else did I leave unfinished at work, on & on...
There are many 'mindless' moments that don't require much brain power, too, just need to finish this phase before moving on to the next. I don't work long in silence, having long since become accustomed to 'background' noise / entertainment while I work. Not necessarily something to be proud of, but surely started with those ancient bad habits of doing homework with the TV or radio on. It's still the case today--although now I think of it as 'multi-tasking'! It's the primary way I catch up on movies, both old favorites and new adventures, and the news/current events of the day. I often marvel at how much of the story you can follow without actually viewing everything--but certainly some productions don't lend themselves well to more listening/less watching. (Those become obvious quickly--I find myself mesmerized with the story and not moving on with the work at hand! Dang! Make note to myself: don't watch this one as a repeat next time!)
Not long after I got situated in my new space, I did have to come to terms with the fact that I'm not as solitary in my work as initially thought. I quickly realized that I had not adequately planned ahead for my four-legged companions. I always thought they were in my work-space before as it was in my bedroom, and they sleep there. Turns out--they go where I go! I corrected my planning oversight and 'we three' now do fairly well.
Milo (the cat) always announces his arrival--he's getting so loud & talkative in his elder years! He most likes the space between my back and the back of the chair--the smaller the better. Weird! We go through this little ritual each time: come in yakking (and we're talking LOUD--you can't hear much over the cat-conversation), wander around the room, stand next to the chair while turning up the volume, and finally jump up to said space on chair. That works as long as I'm sitting at the sewing machine. However, the first need to vacate the chair makes me a loser-out: the overgrown old boy takes over the entire seat. I let him be for awhile--but pretty soon it's time to tip him out. At this point, we either begin the ritual cycle again, or he finally wanders off to his bed--which has been added to the work room, out of the way but nearby.

Cassie (the dog) isn't so pushy on her arrival--but no question she's here now! Cheerful greeting--panting, sitting patiently at attention, an occasional lick of friendship. Then cruise around the room, as something must have been added or moved since that LAST time around--nose in every open container, under foot, checking out the smells of the current project. Finally into the bathroom for a drink--and then crash out on the floor. Nap time can be brief--and then off to another adventure somewhere in the house--or lengthy, with many permutations of sleeping positions.
If Milo is already present, the dog's arrival may--or may not--cause the chair ritual to start again, or--if it's a particularly grumpy day--be a good reason to prove the old adage wrong: do not let a sleeping dog lie. The alpha feline may just circle the oblivious dog a few times and move on, or--on a generally bad hair day--give a little bite on the most readily available ear. This might just cause Cassie to reposition and go back to sleep, or it might cause a jump up from slumber (I'm sure thinking: "WTF?!") and a renewed cruise around the room, checking for added or moved objects once again. If the latter occurs, the ultimate outcome is usually the cat taking over the just-vacated space of the dog--as if to say 'don't even THINK about coming back to bed'.
All tiffs aside, though, we're generally most like children: orbiting one another in our parallel play, but finding some comfort in one another's warmth and companionship. Like a quiet smile (minus the bite, of course!). If I get more formal about my 'business' I guess I'll have to provide a disclaimer about pets (and their related hair!)--I certainly don't foresee a time that they would be banned from 'helping now'.