|"Lady, that is a tortilla. I don't want that."|
My other cat, K.C., doesn't really care about the world around her. She is the old lady of the house and goes about doing her own thing, avoiding me as best she can. She also tries to avoid Binx.
|Blankets he wasn't supposed to be on in a room he wasn't supposed to be in.|
Recently, having never been a lap cat, Binx likes to claw his way into the bathroom and use my lap as a resting place. While this is somewhat sweet, I am kind of busy at the time. I attempted to block him from sitting on my lap and he jumped onto the counter and then onto my shoulders. This is now the norm.
Binx has never been short on affection but that affection was usually directed at my Dad and my dog. Both have passed and I think he found that I was the next best alternative. If sunspots near windows could pet and feed him, I think he would have gone in that direction instead.
My legs, depending on their position, are a pillow or sleeping surface. My arms are a wall to lean against and a place to rub his face. Any surface area that is large enough to hold him, is a bed, even when I am using it. I am his human and I belong to him.
|I woke him and told him he had to move.|
|Eventually he went back to sitting on the desk. Which, of course, belongs to him.|