It was that kind of a day. I looked forward to coming home to my cat. “Boo!” I called. But, as usual, he didn’t come to me. Weren’t pets supposed to comfort a person? Was I chopped liver? Apparently, I wasn’t because if I were actually chopped liver, Boo would not be ignoring me.

I found him in the kitchen. He was swishing his tail as he gobbled his food. “There you are,” I said, petting him. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Boo stopped eating for a second and gazed up at me with his green eyes. “Meow?” he said, with an inquisitive look.

I knew Boo was smart. So, why was he ignoring me when I called him? ft seemed the only time he came running was when 1 opened a can of cat food.

“You know you are supposed to come to me when 1 call you,” 1 scolded. “Don’t you know you’re reinforcing all the negative stereotypes about cats?”

I petted him for a while and then left the kitchen. I strolled over to the piano and started playing. Next thing I knew, Boo had raced into the room and leapt up on the piano bench. He was rubbing his face against my arm, purring, as I tried to play the song.

“Hey, move out of the way. I’m trying to reach for a chord.” That didn’t stop him. He kept head-butting my arm in a state of bliss.

I rolled my eyes. “Just like a male. When I want you, you won’t come, and when I don’t call you, you’re all over me.”

A few weeks later, a friend was visiting. “Play something on the piano,” she said.

I launched into song. Within a few minutes, Boo had jumped on the bench beside me, purring.

My friend laughed. “Wow, your cat really likes the way you play.”

“Yeah, he does,” I said. That’s when it dawned on me. Boo always jumped up on the piano bench when I was playing. My cat loved the piano!