I’m sitting quietly writing on the sofa (I’m not a desk person) when Max intimates he wishes to join me, so up he jumps. Five minutes later I hear a squeaky whining from somewhere down to my right. Finch is too small to get up so he is demanding to be picked up and included in the Basset love fest.
Then Finchley decides to drape himself over my leg:
How am I supposed to get any work done when I have those silky ears begging to be caressed?