I have a love/hate relationship with my cats.
There are four of them. Not quite the crazy lady with all the cats, but please – someone stop me before I get to that point.
All different personalities…
Lista – the little girl. Skinny and skittish. But sit down and she is right there on your lap with her sharp sharp little claws kneading your tummy.
Louie – chubby tuxedo cat. OK, fat. And when he sits around the house, he sits AROUND the house. (rim shot)
Monroe – orange tabby – AKA Mean-roe – still dealing with his sexuality – finding love in all the wrong places – usually with a random article of clothing.
Ding Tut – the new boy – sort of the color of a Dreamsicle – a stocky, adorable, lover – a head butting, paws around your neck nuzzler.
However, leave them alone and destruction ensues. It always amazes me how they can be so peaceful – sleeping – usually on a pile of papers. And then as they wake up – the papers and anything next to them end up scattered on the floor.
But because they chortle and purr – and their fur is soft and soothing – I put up with them and their total lack of concern for my stuff. Here is Ding Tut sleeping on a pile of papers – and the end result.
And cats seem to get right in the middle of where you’re working too. Seems like most every day I’m typing my cat will jump on the desk and plop right down, sprawled outa;sldiup9a8ygpwuhv. :-)
Oh, yes, I can relate to that! They also like to sharpen their claws on the Auralex or the upholstered walls.