The Art of Persistence

Lucy wants on my lap. I've told her no, but the word is fairly irrelevant. "No!" applies to other creatures and circumstances. Dogs, for instance. However, I am reading, and clearly there is no room for both a cat and a book on my lap. I explain this. She pretends not to hear me, but she hears, and understands the message. The change in facial expression gives her away, an ever so slight narrowing of the eyes. Mild displeasure at being thwarted.

Why is it that a lap containing a book or newspaper is such a cat magnet? It's amusing to watch her move in. Lucy seems to believe that if a cat body part moves slowly enough, humans cannot see it. Generally speaking, this is true. I can't tell you how many times I've shooed the cat away, become absorbed in what I'm reading, only to look down a few minutes later and notice that she's sleeping on my lap. How did she get there? I have no recollection. It probably helps that she's always been a petite little cat, and in her old age tips the scale at just over 6 1/2 pounds. Even when she jumps up onto my lap from the floor, it's hardly noticeable.

But today she is employing major stealth tactics. After standing completely immobile for some minutes, slowly, ever so slowly a paw moves forward. Weight shift to that paw. Then, the other paw creeps forward, followed by the head...slow motion progress toward the desired destination.

"The trick is to be persistent, and to shrink your body into the space under the book ever so slowly, so the human doesn't notice. Eventually, because you are so cute, and so persistent, the human will give up and put the book away, devoting all attention to you. And then things will be as they should be."

Works every time!