James is sitting on the blue chair, trying to surf the internet. He checks his email, looks up recent sports scores, maybe a little Wikiwandering. Hamlet is stalking around the chair, looking for the moment to usurp the laptop and cuddle in James's lap. It's impossible to have a large Maine Coon in your lap at the same time as a laptop, especially one with a big, bushy tail that just wants to wave distractingly in front of your screen (perched precariously on your knees). And so, in a way that makes me think James will be a great dad one day, when Hamlet approaches him in the chair, he puts down the laptop and lets the cat blissfully knead his stomach. What a guy.
Hamlet is a kneader. If given the chance, he'll knead your stomach until it's numb, always with a slightly vacuous expression on his little face. He goes into his kneading trance and won't meet your eyes. He was de-clawed by his previous owners (we got him from a shelter), and we think this may have something to do with the kneading fetish.
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I used to tease my mom about the various reasons she wouldn't qualify for "Mom of the Year." Now, with a little rugrat of my own, I've come to appreciate those "bad mommy moments" she had - both for her own sanity and for her kids' character and growth.
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