In preparation for the floor guys, I folded all the blankets we have in the living room. The quilt folded and draped on the back of the couch gave Obi a new opportunity.
Quilt pod monster.
Today, Obi laid across the tops of both of my arms while I worked on the laptop on the couch. He stretched. He purred. He napped.
For hours.
He’s getting good at this snuggling thing.
But Oliver is still the master.
“Oli, come lay with me.”
The grey kitten, sitting on the floor by the couch, looked at me with a steady gaze. I patted my lap. He did that stretch that starts at his front toes, travels up his arms into his shoulders then travels through his eyebrows and out through his ears.
“Come here, Mr. Pi.”
The grey kitten swivelled his head to considered The Boy sitting on the recliner.
“Hey. Bunny.”
The grey kitten licked his tail.
“Ooooooooooliveeeeeeer! Laaaaaaay wiiiiiiiith meeeeeee,” I whined. I patted my lap, now covered by quilt, again.
Oli walked away. Unable to remember where he left me once he arrived in the hallway, he called out.
“Oliver, come here,” I responded.
The grey kitten walked back into the room and sat on the floor by the couch.
“Seriously dude. Get thee into my lap.”
The grey kitten scratched his ear. He looked at me.
I leaned down close.
“Get. Up. Here. And. Lay. With. Your. Girl.”
Finally, Oliver jumped onto my lap and we had a snuggle. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was showing me how it feels to be ignored when he’s trying to get me up for breakfast.
And then he got so carried away with licking my finger than he chomped down on it.
Hard.
Pudding head.
Poke.
Poke poke.
Nose.
Roll over.
Hair pull. Growl a warning.
Poke. Poke poke. Growl.
– Alarm –
Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs.
Roll over.
Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs. Return to bed; peek over the edge. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Run to stairs.
Get up. Walk to breakfast nook.
Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? Will it be tuna? Open the can. Put it all on my plate.
Split can of food on two plates. Walk to couch.
Okay, breakfast on two plates. Two bites here. Then to Obi’s plate. Two bites. Then to my plate. Two bites. Then to Obi’s plate. Two bites. Then to my plate. Two bites. Then to Obi’s plate. Two bites. One more bite. Back to my plate. Done.
The Boy is in the kitchen. Breakfast? Breakfast breakfast? No.
Snuggle The Girl to reward her for breakfast. Allow The Boy to scritch head when smelly, lifegiving juice is delivered. Try not to be annoyed by The Girl’s hand shifting to take juice.
Drink coffee. Good Boy.
Kitten Thunder: Life lessons and cat tales 