Sirius and I lately have been thinking about routine. If ever a creature loved routine, of course, it's a feline. And although my easily bored human nature resists sameness, I am slowly understanding the comfort that routine can provide.
Like all great feline-human pairs, Sirius and I have developed our own routine. It is ours alone. We have created it together; neither of us imposes it on the other. We set our routine in motion each day. We follow it until we decide to create a new one. We know what to expect and when to expect it, and the resulting rhythm strengthens our relationship.
Sirius knows to be at his door ready for breakfast around 9. After eating, the tuxedo boy waits on the couch for me to return with his fresh water. He knows that what follows the water is our morning chat, where I tell him what I'm doing that day, and he purrs enthusiastically in response. (If only everyone had such a supportive listener. The global effect likely would be profound.) He dozes for the next couple of hours, but waits again by his door around 2. This is when the feather toy comes out, and he is practically delirious by the time I enter the room. Just before dinner, Sirius and I lie down for a quick nap. And at 11, I read my newspaper with him curled next to me. Simple actions, but they anchor our days.
Far from fanning boredom, our daily rituals spark moments of happy anticipation. The sameness of the actions are spared monotony by the sameness of the joy we experience--yesterday, today, and, we hope, tomorrow.