Funny thing about deadlines. They make a swooshing sound as they go by. It is time to write my weekly column again and my mind is blank. In journalism, they call it writer's block. Every author experiences this now and then. My remedy is to pretend that there is glue in my seat.

One thing I have learned in life is that inspiration plus motivation is 98% perspiration. Consequently, when writer's block occurs, I do not answer the phone. I do not raid the refrigerator. I do not exaggerate the call of nature. Not until I have at least one hundred words written will I reluctantly acknowledge my cat's pleading meow. The last one is the hardest. If you have ever owned a cat, or had a cat own you, you understand.

Mo Mo, our spayed and vaccinated Himalayan kitten, always demands attention. Never is she as adamant though as when I am seriously writing. She knows when I have a dead-line. It doesn't matter. Mo Mo is a self-centered schemer who must have her way. You would think a veteran school teacher and principal who has handled the most undisciplined of children could dominate a little cat.

Mo Mo jumps in my lap. I push her down. She jumps again. I push her down once more. After several unsuccessful attempts to stay put in my lap, she jumps once again. This time Mo Mo lays on her back and looks like a dead fluffy rag. She purrs contently as her paw gently strokes my face. Who can resist such charm? I caress her long silky hair and scratch behind her ears.

It's an animal-world secret, but all Mama cats give their children a "Kitten Play Book" when they are born. It is downloaded with their milk. That is why all cats know how to play the same manipulative games with their owners. I even over-heard one Mama cat teaching her kittens a bit of feline history: "Thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. Never forget this."

Wonderful. Mo Mo just jumped down from my lap and has left my little office. Quality time. That was all she needed. Finally I can get on with writing this column.

No such luck. Here comes Mo Mo again. Now she is doing the two-step on the computer keyboard leaving traces of kitty litter between the keys. Her next trick will be to double-click my computer mouse.

When I lock her in the spare bedroom, she jumps at anything not nailed down, causing enough commotion for me to come running. If I put her outside, she climbs on the window screen and becomes Mo Mo, the Ripper.

I have tried to ignore or out-stubborn this two-pound mass of purring insistence. Mo Mo always wins. She doesn't just have a plan "B" to get my attention. She has strategies all the way to "Z." Right now she is pawing the cordless phone buttons, making zany musical tunes.

I give up. Next week I'll write a column. Today I will just enjoy my adorable, obnoxious cat.