He’s suddenly turned into Clingy McMaowerson, and has learned a new trick – above and beyond his usual “MAKE WAY! I AM TO SIT ON YOU NOW HUMAN!” dealy (which he’s doing right now).

Let’s call it ’several times during the night, 7kg of orange fuzz will stand on your boob, settle on your stomach and purr til you pay attention to it. If you move it off to the side, it will jump away, only to come back and stand on your boob again.’

He just HAS to sleep on my stomach and will whine and complain til I roll over and let him do it. If I don’t help him by maneuvering him into a comfortable position for me, he will default to boob standage. Which hurt like the dickens even before the damned things were so sensitive.

Sometimes I think he’s smarter than we give him credit for. Fizzgig, meanwhile, continues fizzing.