[ Loiosh, an orange tabby, seen in closeup; he’s laying in someone’s lap on a teal-green skirt, more-or-less facing the camera. ]
Why do they look forward to fighter practice so much when they’re just gonna sleep through it?
I mean, for Loiosh, at least, he gets to sleep on his Auntie Brigid’s lap. Plus he gets to annoy his Uncle Carrick, hit up his Uncle Stigr for pettings, & generally be an extremely happy pest.
[ He’s got one elbow folded up on Brigid’s knee, the other forepaw tucked under his chin; his eyes are mostly closed, but he’s still awake. ]
At least he was willing to go over to Brigid; that’s the only way I managed to get any sewing done whatsoever. I’m just not allowed to sew, is what; I get a lapful of boy when I try.
[ His head is resting on his paw, and he is entirely, peacefully asleep. ]
Tom just spends most of the time passed out in the stroller.
[ Tom’s laying in the cat stroller, stretched out with his head on one of his forepaws. ]
… as long as they’re enjoying themselves.