My animals make lines. As in, they stand in line. When I sit down (each and every time I sit down) there is a mad rush to be first in line for my rapidly disappearing lap. The creak of the computer chair, the squeak of my box springs, the rustle of my sofa cushions, and animals come flying from all directions.
I could literally spend all day in a chair rotating through the furry masses, because you see, as soon as one animal is lured away by treat or whatever, the next one jumps up, and as soon as the treat, potty break, etc is over that animal gets right back in line.
Wherever I go, whatever I do, my animals follow me. There are always four of them at my feet. Heaven forbid I close even the bathroom door on them. When I get back from the store (or indeed anywhere) I have to bring them treats. Usually, by the time I haul in all the groceries, each animal has picked out what they want from the bags...and the object of their affection is sitting at their feet when I lock the door.
My Persian insists to be loved on like a baby each time I hold TLL in my lap. He jumps up on my chest puts his paws (and claws) on my free shoulder, settles his furry face in between them, and digs in each time I attempt to stand without supporting his furry tush with the crook of my arm. Please note that we were given this cat with a warning about how independent and not lap cat-esque he was.
The cats hate me to be at the computer desk. They make this very clear by first attempting to sit on the ledge in front of the monitor, and then if I should persist...they sit on the keyboard.
You might think by their antics that I don't give my animals enough attention. You may think the poor things are starved for attention. In reality, I am often accused of loving their furry little beings more than my husband and children. Of course that is nonsense. I love them as much maybe, but, not more. Granted, this theory has never been tested...and hopefully it never will be. I shudder to think about what I would do if I had to save them all from a burning building.
I am writing all of this tonight, to remind myself how much I adore them. Hubby is still here (until the wee hours) and it is nearing eighty in the house under his thermostat law. Eighty without any animals helping to warm me up. I don't like to be hot and sweaty when I'm trying to relax and hopefully sleep...but the fur sticking to me on top of it? Yeah...yuck.
Fuck your Foggy magic.
2 days ago