I sat down to have a conversation with Truman. He likes hanging outside my office door, so I thought I’d sit down on the floor next to him and discuss his thoughts on it being the end of the week.
He showed a typically feline air of disinterest.
Apparently something farther down the house was grabbing his attention at the time, because he wanted nothing to do with having a conversation with me. I shouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps I should have carried kibble in my hand or something.