When you’re trying to stick with a writing program, it helps to have a buddy to keep you on track.

My buddy is Charlotte.

As I mentioned earlier this week, I usually start getting ready for my writing time a little before ten o’clock in the evening. Yes, I know that for some people, ten o’clock is bedtime, but I haven’t gone to bed that early since the eighth grade. These days, on a typical weekday, I finish work around seven or seven-thirty. Then, it’s time to feed the cats and make my own dinner. I usually eat somewhere around eight-thirty or nine o’clock, so by the time I finish and clean up, it’s getting close to ten.

Today, of course, wasn’t a weekday. Even so, I spent most of the afternoon at my desk, dealing with client billing, preparing tax payments, and arranging for book events. By the time I headed out to do errands, it was past four-thirty, and it was after seven when I hauled the groceries into the house. On Sunday evenings, I take dinner to Mom, so that meant cooking chicken and potatoes tonight so I’d have everything prepared for her tomorrow.

As a result, dinner was later than usual, though not terribly so. As I was finishing my meal, Charlotte started pacing back and forth beside the table. She doesn’t usually care about what I’m eating, so her attention was unusual. Then, I realized:

My cat can tell time.

Sure enough, it was five minutes to ten, and I wasn’t following the usual pre-writing routine (turn on the BSO, make tea, fetch my computer glasses from the office)—and Charlotte was displeased.

Mind you, we’ve never had much of a schedule around here. One of the quirks about working from home is that the phone can start ringing before I’m even out of bed. It’s not unusual for me to spend half an hour on the phone with a client before I’ve made tea. Depending how the morning goes, it’s not at all uncommon for the cats to get their breakfast at eleven-thirty, and it doesn’t faze them.

So for Charlotte to feel this strongly about my writing time speaks volumes about how seriously she takes her job as the managing editor of Tuxedo Cat Press. Quite frankly, in the past she hasn’t done much beyond posing for publicity photos. Now, though, she’s clearly taken it upon herself to ensure that I get this book written. I don’t know what’s brought about the change in her attitude. Maybe she was looking over my shoulder when I was preparing Tuxedo Cat Press’s taxes and she’s displeased about last year’s numbers. (I didn’t think she’d care as long as the treat budget remained intact.)

In any event, it’s good to know that regardless of her motivation, Charlotte is going to keep me on the straight and narrow, ensuring that I write my 1,000 words every day.