Chair sharks

This morning I settled into a chair to work. A while later, I got up for a coffee refill and returned to find an interloper:


Loki bares his teeth to keep me from reclaiming the chair. (Actually, his black fur makes him ridiculously difficult to photograph which results in lots of these blurred “action” shots.)

In my family, we call that getting sharked. As in, “Loki just sharked my chair.”

Anyway, I was feeling generous so I moved to another chair, one that actually suited me better because it’s next to a window and big patch of warm sunshine, and worked there for some time. I then left to take care of something in another room and when I returned, found this:


Marcel claiming my seat in the sun.

Sharked again!

Maybe I should bring the rocking chair up from the basement. I’ve heard that cats get real nervous around those . . .




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