My wife's cat.
As a follow-up to this post, I hereby nominate my very own Basement Cat.

Over time she has gotten progressively more needy, and has been compared to a black furry limpet, a hairy mole that won't go away, and a Klingon. If one of us sits down anywhere, she appears in our laps and refuses to leave.

Since I also have Ceiling Cat, and since Ceiling Cat was outside in the snow and was trying to warm up on my lap, having Basement Cat suddenly pop up and sit on her head resulted in sounds that I would have expected from a NYC performance artist and more furious pummeling than two elderly holiday shoppers going after the same sweater. As my lap was Ground Zero for this, I am not pleased with either of them at the moment.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find some bandages.
( Wanderer, Mon 27 Dec 2010, 18:43, Reply)