Though I always have at least one cat, I am not a cat person. While I have varying degrees of fondness for my own cats, I don’t particularly like cats in general. I’m not one to gush over pictures of kittens–they have a brief window of cuteness, but puppies beat them all to hell in the cute department–and I wouldn’t ever buy myself a calendar or a notebook or a coffee mug with a picture of a cat on it. I am just not big on cats, period.

What, then, gives Prins Bertil the idea that he must be in my lap every moment that I’m sitting in this chair? No matter how many times I push him down or shoo him away with my foot, he will not be deterred from jumping up here to sit with me. I don’t think I’ve ever known such a persistant cat.

I knew letting him be named after royalty was a mistake; it’s given him a sense of entitlement and now I’m paying the price.