What?  This is how I relax.  Why you got to have opinions about this? I’ve been tucked under this man’s armpit at every available opportunity for exactly 9 years, 3 months, and approximately 2 days. I’ve survived a cross country move, the death of my brother, the adoption of Max, who is most likely a RACCOON (you foolish humans), and the adoption of Cyrus, who is more like a Tasmanian Devil than a cat.  Did I mention I predate these child-creatures who have messed up EVERYTHING?  And by everything, I mean…all the RESTING? Remember when we slept together, armpits linked, until noon on Sundays?  I’d start an armpit protest, but I’m just too lazy.  And arthritic.  Besides, I like it here.  Don’t look for me to cuddle with you…I’m a 1-man armpit kind of cat.  I’m Cat #1.  The Alpha.  Greg’s favorite nap companion.  But you can call me Sydney Bristow Taurel.  Syd for short, but I doubt we’ll ever get that familiar with each other.  Just sayin’.