Tom has apparently forgiven us for our absence over this past weekend, as he has decided to treat us to lap dances. He is not absolutely content unless he is standing on my lap, regardless of my location, nudging away at my arm. He doesn’t appear to enjoy my petting him, he just wants to rub his nose excretions against my skin then lick his lips. I wonder what goes through his little cat mind while he’s doing this. “Mmmm, tastes good.” How very odd.
Sunday night he took great delight in joining Earl and I in bed. He jumped from the bed to my stomach and then trampolined to Earl’s stomach, where he then bounced over to my crotch. It was all very heartwarming. I guess it’s his way of expressing his love, for he then settled down under the covers and purred a bit. He has a way of tucking us in; he settles down next to me, usually with his back against my blanket covered body and then when he senses I’m just about to fall asleep, he jumps down and patters off to a little nook somewhere in the house. He then returns at 5:17 a.m. to demand some kibble. He’s always punctual at 5:17 a.m. He seems to have adjusted to daylight saving time better than I did.
Occasionally he breaks the routine for the weekend and settles on Earl’s head until we get up. Apparently he enjoys the Daniel Boone look or something.
As I type this entry, he’s back on my lap, purring away and nudging my arm. At least he’s not nudging the PowerBook or running across the desk.