My cat actually doesn’t bother me. When I’m typing, she sleeps under my desk, and I occasionally kick her by accident, but she’s a bit arthritic and so she doesn’t try to jump into my office chair anymore.
None of our cats are really lap cats, with the exception of Misty, who hasn’t wanted on my lap while I was on the computer since she was a baby.
Buffy, however, will try to get my attention when I’m typing by reaching out and tapping me on the arm. She has a bad habit of sneaking up behind me and then scaring the shit out of me!
Thomas slumped acrossed my mouse arm doesn’t bother me as much as Fanny Mae dancing on my keyboard. However they have both discovered that bright red switch on my power strip. Usually when I’m on the 173rd level of cubis, or almost through putting together the library’s newletter.
The most that Shan will do while I’m at the computer is put his front paws on my leg and beg for ear-scratching, or jump up on the chair next to me if it’s empty (95% of the time, it’s filled with a stack of books). Most of the time, he just sits on my feet.
If I’m on a couch watching TV, though, he has to sit/lay on or next to me.
Owned by two cats, only one of which is particularily interested in my lap/keyboard/desk-in-front-of-monitor. I have learned through experience that when he won’t lie down at least enough for me to see over him to keep working, then picking him up and depositing him on the floor must be done gently enough so that he doesn’t accidently let loose a squirt of musk. This is a semi-solid, waxy goo that can scour your sinuses at twenty paces. Not the stuff to get between the keys or on important papers. It’s a good thing he’s terminally cute or he’d never be welcome anywhere near the computer.
The cats I know find the papers I am reading and my laptop infinitely more comfortable than the floor, elsewhere on the sofa, the bed, other chairs etc. I never thought of blaming cats for my lack of progress: thanks!
My computer is an evil, soul-sucking, mind-rotting monster, but I do not need to fear it as my trusty companions have made it their life’s work to defeat it by dismembering the keyboard, suffocating the keyboard, disembowelling the mouse, paralysing my mouse arm, disconnecting the wires, dribbling on the screen, and when all else fails, subjecting the monitor to the death-ray stare.
Yep. My 9-year-old (neutered) tomcat, Boykin, typically hops in my lap for a nap after he has his supper.
Yep, Monkeyface always crawls over the non-mouse arm and snuggles into my lap. If she’s content with that, we’re good to go. A simple slide of the keyboard a few inches and I’m fine.
It’s the occasions when she loudly voices her disapproval of what I’m writing that weird me out a bit.
When Kasey was a baby, she would lay in my lap, but she was so tiny it didn’t really matter. Now that she is bigger, she is content with sleeping across my feet.
When Jake was still alive, he would try to lay on the desk, and put his head on my non-mouse arm, and go to sleep. After a while, he would streeeeeetch out until his whole head was on the keyboard.