Funny story: Y'all know that we felines have a way of developing habits and whatnot, right? I've heard discussions between mom and dad about how I can be a slob because I take up a mouthful of wet food and eat it away from my dish, making a mess on my board. Or how dad makes mental notes (emphasis on the "mental") of the way I apparently poop in the back corner of my box and pee against the front, often times not covering said pee and stepping through it and leaving tracks. Whatever, says I. I could write pages of gripes I have with them. If I could hold a pen. Anyway, yeah, back to habits. I fight mom when it comes to sitting in the living room, especially when I'm already there and (usually) asleep and she wants to sit with me. She grumbles, begs and bitches, and I'm still as a statue, my expression all, like, "what, you want me to move?" However, for who knows what reason it's a bit different when it comes to sitting with dad. As you've seen in some posts, I like to squish in on dad's left side between his leg and the arm of the chair where I'm all nice and snug and warm.
Then, when dad gets up to refill his coffee or something I'll slide right back over for him, or, most often, will stay tucked tightly against the chair arm, patient as can be.
Which mom, in spite of a bit of jealousy I dare say, finds adorable. What can I say? Habits, right?