Our cat is called Asterix. Like most cats, he is friendly if it suits him. He is not our first cat, but definitely the first family cat. Picked up as a rescue cat, then nicknamed Scholesi because of his deft footwork.
He has trained both our dogs in the ways of cathood, and I’m sure they are and were better-rounded canines because of it.
I am mentioning him because, as I type away here, he is stretching out his left paw to gently scratch my typing hand, butting my hand with his head, while happily purring to himself. Just given him a stroke on the head, and he has risen up with great pride and mighty purring.
It can be quite annoying when I am trying to type quickly, and especially when he might choose to walk across my line of sight. He doesn’t understand what I am doing – for him I am there to serve!
For my older readers, he does look like Thomas the Church Cat, but he has chosen not to claim the church building as his own, though he probably has secured the perimeter. As an urban cat, he doubtless has higher kudos in the cat world than the sand-grown-uns.
For someone who has probably ignored him the most effectively, why do I get all the attention?
Perhaps he has seen me as a challenge, and so has decided I am the one to be conquered.
Be aware of the pawing of Jesus, distracting you from your labours. He purrs a lot, you know. As far as he is concerned, life should centre around Him. He knows that that is what is best for us, and we always prove it. Go on, give in and give him some attention…