Why, yes, that is Lefty on the bed.

He’s become quite brave and exploratory of late. He has several times joined the scrum in the kitchen, jostling for a chance to lick the gooshy fud cans.

And he’s decided the bed is a good place to hang out in the evening.

I don’t think he’s quite figured out that the lumps under the covers that he leans against are my legs, but he’s quite happy to sprawl across them.

Or even snuggle between them. And purr.

It’s not a very audible purr. Not yet, anyway. But I can unquestionably feel it vibrating through my shins and down to my phalanges.

Nor, and let’s be quite clear about this, does he limit his visits to times when I’m alone in bed.

Granted, the other cats have a tendency to depart when Lefty arrives. But that has more to do with his uncertainty about how to establish his position on the totem pole than anything else. He’s not sure if he should be licking ears, sniffing rears, or instilling fears. And so he swings rapidly from one approach to another. Once he settles into a consistent form of interaction, I expect matters to settle nicely.

And the more time he spends with the rest of the crew, the faster that settling will take place. Or so I presume. One can but hope.

Regardless, he does look good on the bed–that black fur against the red blanket is very attractive, as Yuki knows well–and he seems to be an excellent furry hot water bottle.