cats

It was a beautiful Norwegian summer. The sun was out, the rain had stopped and the midges was not out (yet).

I was around 8 or 9 and only wearing a pair of shorts feeling the sun kiss my shockingly white skin, while I carried our cat outside. She was laying over my shoulder. She purred and purred. It was bliss.

Then my mother pulled the cord and fired up the lawn mover. The cat used me as a ramp as it took off and ran inside to hide under the couch.

As a man in my 40s, I have both physical and psychological scars from that day.

Seconded. I taught two of my cats that they can be comfy up there, and one of them will jump up at the first opportunity when I'm tying my shoes or something else that has me kneeling/sitting.

The claws don't hurt too much—she hasn't botched an attempt ...yet—but I still yelp because it does scare the shit out of me every time lmao. I don't even attempt doing anything that could scare her, and instead go straight to my bed and carefully lower myself until she reluctantly disembarks.

BTW cute cat, OP :)

All good things to think about. Thank you!