Once upon a time, Tungsten was my only lap-cat. Since the orange one passed away, a strange thing has happened.
Renn was, it's true, a lap-cat under certain circumstances. I must be in the right corner of the sitting room couch. When in the left corner, my big boy will sit beside me, but never on me. That is reversed when I sit on the other end. Cammie, as you may have observed, if you’ve read other of these articles, has started sitting on my lap not just when I am in a chair at the dining table, but also while I am on the couch. Even Noah likes to jump up for a few minutes when I am at the computer, though it may be a long time before he is considered a proper lap-cat.
But what has surprised me is that Josie too has started coming onto my lap. Whether of her own volition or at my suggestion, she will jump up on the couch - not as easy for her as it is for a more lithe cat - and step on to me. Sometimes she will lie only partly on me, other times fully. She will usually get off if another cat comes to sit on the couch, but not always. It may be another step in her progress of showing affection more openly. Or she may be tenderizing my body so she can eat me later.
Just as unexpected are Tucker’s occasional forays onto my lap. He still enjoys his spot on the couch’s arm, next to me, but has taken to lying either sprawled across my legs or curled farther up. Unlike my Chubs, the roly poly one does not worry too much if another animal lies near by.
The tiny terror’s tradition seems to be continued now by all of the beasts in my care, each to some extent. I am happy to have them snooze on me. I read a book or listen to music, and enjoy the company. But I must assert that a sixteen pound cat feels rather different on the legs than one of barely six. I just have to wait for the feeling to return when eventually I try to stand again…