Mom is Just a Nickname

I have a muse.
No, really, my black cat Terpsichore is named for the Greek Muse of Dance! She’s my muse.
What makes her my muse?
Consider the Wikipedia entry which states the Muses “embody the arts and inspire the creation process with their graces through remembered and improvised song and stage, writing, traditional music and dance.”
That doesn’t explain how she’s my muse?
Ok, well, see, she sits beside me when I write. She has her own chair, even. She only actually sits in it after the kids are in bed, but that works out since I do most of my serious writing then. Oh look. She’s sitting there now!
You don’t think that makes her my muse? Ok, well, whenever I’m stuck on a point, I reach over and I pet her, which helps me think. Pretty soon I have something to write about. If I don’t think of something fast, she gets sick of me petting her and bites me. That’s inspiration right there, avoiding a biting!
Avoidance is not a source of inspiration you say? You’ve never been bitten by Terpie!