Nathan Alan Willoughby as Couch Potato - Fiction

After unsuccessfully using the music stations on her television to keep Nathan Alan Willoughby, Edie tried another idea. He just couldn't lay around on the couch all day. It simply wasn't good for a twenty pound cat to rest. Not constantly anyway.

This time, Edie left the television on an actual station, without any floating icons to send the cat into a trance. She decided on Mtv, since it at least had some music on now and then.

Nathan Alan Willoughby stood at the door and watched Edie grab her backpack as she closed the door. "Don't forget to hydrate this time, Cat," she said as the door closed.

Listening to her feet descend three flights of steps and the outside door closing, Nathan Alan Willoughby wandered through the kitchen. He'd left a couple bites of kibble, so he finished those and, as Edie suggested, lapped some of the cold water in his paw print bowl.

He returned to the living room and sat in front of the television. The images were moving, but nothing like that elusive floating object that held him in place last week. Instead, there seemed to be a lot of yelling, discussion of tans, grenades and hair. It was perplexing to the large cat, but occasionally there was a swirling image for him to attack. After a while, he returned to the couch, but kept his eyes on the television.

It was a poor substitute for Edie, but she'd return eventually. She always did. Nathan Alan Willoughby finally trusted that this kind person would leave, but always return. It was a strange world without her, but she was never far, he was certain. He supposed she was on the sidewalk, just waiting to return to him. He didn't really understand. Life was very confusing, but belonging to Edie was all comfort and peace.

The television continued to flash images of young people dancing at nightclubs and laying out on the beach. And more arguing, tanning, and discussion of hair. One voice jarred Nathan Alan Willoughby each time it spoke. Unable to sleep, he sat in front of the television, trying in vain to make sense of this squawk and squeal. The cat licked his paw uncertainly. He was beginning to get upset. What on earth was a Snooki?

Mercifully, Edie returned. Again, her adopted cat was staring at the television, a pool of drool on the floor. "Oh no!" She cried, "How could I have known it was a Jersey Shore marathon!"