Yielding the Chair

I have a chair that I really like, a La-z-boy recliner I bought back in 1998. I've slept in that chair when I was unable to lie down after surgeries or other injuries; I've written hundreds of thousands of words in that chair, with my Macbook on a wooden lap tray and my elbows resting on the padded arms of the chair.

But recently I've been sitting in the floor in front of the chair, using the footrest as a backrest instead. You see, Anna has taken a liking to the chair, and loves to curl up in the seat of the chair and occasionally put her paws up against the back of my neck while I'm sitting in front of her.

That's okay. I spent much of my childhood sitting in the floor watching TV, and I have no problem doing that again. Sure, I could move Anna--but she looks so disappointed when I do that. Instead, my cat has her own recliner, and I'm sitting in the floor once again.

Misha, our other cat, really likes this, by the way; when I'm in the floor, she can sleep right next to me, occasionally waking with a kittenish meow to encourage me to comb her for a little while. So everyone seems to get something out of this new sitting arrangement...