Mr. Otto the gray fluffball of a cat, who is a very good cat indeed, is draping himself across my chest in a bid for morning pets. Here, you see his adorably oversized front paws (and a bonus rear paw!) in the foreground.
In the midground, it's just fur. So much fur.
Towards the rear, you can see his chin: his head is thrown back as he delectates upon cheek scratches.
Morning scritchestimes continue with Mr. Otto (cat. fur: gray. eyes: yellow. composed of: fluff.).
He's recovered some composure and now is laying his head against my chest, eyes remain open as he struggles against the urge to give in and fully submit to morning pets.
You can also see his oversized front right paw, which is not quite supporting his chinny-chin-chin. Most of the rest of what you see is just fur. Especially if you ignore what passes for my left hand in the upper right, it's not worth your time or attention.
Mr. Otto has fully submitted to pets. He's curled up against my chest, eyes squinched closed just like Goddess intended. His adorable little front right paw is folded over, and you can just see his right hind paw in the bottom left: he's doing a lazy cat's version of "shrimping."
And then there's the fur. So much fur. You may think I overstate this, but no: SO. MUCH. FUR.
Mr. Otto's will to resist submitting to the morning pets: going, going, GONE.
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