Zazen, interrupted

Fatty doesn't know I'm contemplating impermanence. At first he sits patiently and gazes up at me. Next he licks my folded hands. His tongue is warm and raspy. When all else fails he lifts a paw to gently pat my arm - I'm here! Stroke me! This morning my meditation is half paying-attention-to-my-breath, half paying-attention-to-my-cat.