Well, alright. Not really. But Minkey loves nothing better than to sit on my left shoulder – sit, sleep, hang limply, drape, imitate a fur stole – while I go about my daily chores.

I don’t mind when I’m sitting typing (which is what I do about 17 hours every day). But it gets a little problematic when I’m trying to do the dishes, or clean out the fridge.

Personally, I blame my mother-in-law. We left Minkey with her once, when he was an innocent kitten on the verge of Minkhood. We had bought an old house, and while it was being gutted back to the outer walls and completely renovated at the speed of light, Minkey stayed with Gwen and we stayed with my own mother. (Neither mom would have all 3 of us together).

Naturally, we visited him as often as we could.

“Look what I taught him,” said Gwen proudly, one day.

She patted her left shoulder. Minkey took a flying leap from the ground and landed on it.

It wasn’t bad when he was a kitten, and his little claws were soft. But now, they’re proportionately bigger (and harder) than he is.

I figured it out once: If Minkey was a human (shh! Don’t tell him he’s not!) his feet would be about size 22.

We figure it was Gwen’s revenge for being left alone with an overly affectionate and talkative Siamese cat.

Thanks, Mom.

Minkey has a favorite cat game. He thinks it was written especially for him. It’s a video game, and the rare occasions I have time to play it, he sits on my knee and watches the screen intently.

If I leave the game running on the monitor, he’ll sit there for hours.

Frankly, I put it on when I want a Minkey Break (he’s just too cuddly sometimes).

“He likes the movement,” said my friend Angela.

Well, no. There are other computer games I play, and he doesn’t bother about them at all. But he’s heard me talk about his favorite game. It’s called “The Curse of Monkey Island.”

I’m sure he thinks it’s “The Curse Of Minkey Island”.

A video game about Minkey… Now there’s a scary thought!

Minkey’s little feet are not, well, little. They’re the size of Manhattan. And those claws just do not retract! Both my clothes and I have the permanent puncture marks to prove it.

“You should think about getting him declawed,” a recent visitor told me sternly.

Here’s the long and the short of it. I got pressured into allowing that to happen by a (previous) vet once, with another cat – poor little Bluebell.

“It’s painless,” this vet kept assuring me.

Well, no. It wasn’t painless. I spent days cuddling Bluebell while my formerly happy, boisterous kitten lay in listless, palpable misery.

She never recovered, either. Complete personality change. After the surgery, and for the rest of her life, Bluebell was withdrawn, sullen, and antisocial. I am sure she was in pain. Even though the (new) vet said he could find nothing wrong.

So I’ll never do that to a cat again. Even if they do regularly leave large puncture marks.

I did discover a products called “Softpaws” – soft caps that cap your pet’s nails. I read several positive owner reviews. But Minkey, his unretractable claws and I long ago came to a truce.

We’ve settled for Minkicures, which are much more fun. That’s when I do my nails, and Minkey sits on my knee waiting his turn, utterly fascinated by the procedure. He gets a Paw Massage (he likes those) and then I clip his nails. (I’m very good at it – mostly because he enjoys it and doesn’t squirm). It’s a Girl Thing we do together.

But please don’t tell him it’s a Girl Thing!

I haven’t taken any new photos of Minkey for a while, with all the recent excitement about not only my sister’s serious illness, but my mother’s near-fatal emergency hospital trip.  Life slowly was slowly getting back to normal as I scrambled to catch up work assignments.

However, I went into the bedroom yesterday morning – and there was Minkey, perfectly posed with an eye-catching red velvet Christmas stocking (last seen in the linen closet). The fact that his chocolate Siamese coloring contrasted nicely was an opportunity too good to miss.  As I suspect he well knew.

(Even if he did look rather sulky).

Christmas in June, anyone?