The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
I'm Just Taking Dictation
Why are you wearing these silly, nylon track-pants? How'm I supposed to get any traction as I perch on your lap? Suit yourself. You'll regret it once I start my kneading routine, which begins...now!
If I keep head-butting your arms, will you stop typing and notice my purring self?
I've had it! I'm getting off of your lap and onto your desk. I'm going to rub my face along the left side of your computer and wag my brown and gray striped tail at you because it disarms you.
Here I come again. I'd rather your imperfect lap to that hard, wooden thing your computer's perched on -- More kneading -- You'll never wear these pants again when you blog. You'll know better.
I do prefer to be affectionate when you're typing at your computer. When you're available and try to pet me, it's so much less fun. I like to look at you with a mysterious expression in my eyes -- hey, my claws keep getting caught on this weird fabric! -- and make you pay attention, but if you won't, well, I'll bathe myself. To do that, one of my claw-tipped paws will anchor me on your thigh.
Yes, I'm purring because even though you're not really regarding me right now, you're a handy bathtub, if a slippery one.
While I'm bathing, I'll send you my thoughts psychically, rather than talking with you directly, as I've been doing up to now: ~~You know, your friend, Marni, is likely correct about the pine-dust kitty litter she recommended. Probably it is better for my sister and me than the clay stuff.
We do like that chicken and liver Fancy Feast stuff, though. We could eat that for every meal! The salmon kind? Not so much.~~
Bath over. What now? More bathing. I missed a spot. More anchoring. More purring. More gazing. More lounging. More mite-evicting by shaking my head. More curiosity. More fur on your keyboard, as you just noticed. Still, you adore me and I know it, and I work it, and I guess you're tolerable yourself.