Cats I love you all but no, the fact you can see the bottom of the food bowl (ringed ‘round by kibble that’s been pushed to the sides) does NOT constitute a kibble emergency worthy of you clawing at my butt, winding round me crying piteously, and leading me to the food room.
Tag Archives: muse:doc
Doc darted away when Boris moved, eyeing the otter narrowly and lashing her tail. When Boris made no further moves, she deigned to creep back, headbutting Jarvis’ hand insistently and offering a tiny, squeaky meow.
“It’s all posturing,” Jarvis assured the cat, his tone mildly conspiratorial. He resumed petting her, scratching her chin. “He’s harmless as long as you aren’t something small and shiny.” Evidently, even the (former) computer was not immune to talking to the animals.
Well, Doc was small, but she was definitely not shiny. She was sleek and dark, with a few pale spots turning her coat calico. Green-gold eyes peered up at Jarvis, occasionally flicking over to check on Boris. She tipped her chin up, eyes slitting almost closed, and began to purr loudly.
After a moment of scratching, Doc slitted her eyes closed and began to purr, loudly. She tipped her head forward, urging his fingers toward the back of her skull, and flicked an ear.
Jarvis settled cross-legged on the floor, as he scratched Doc behind her ears. “Much less of a pest than this one, aren’t you?” he observed wryly, glancing down at Boris. As if on cue, Boris squirmed his way out of Jarvis’s hold to sit on his shoulder, front paws on the top of Jarvis’s head.
Doc darted away when Boris moved, eyeing the otter narrowly and lashing her tail. When Boris made no further moves, she deigned to creep back, headbutting Jarvis’ hand insistently and offering a tiny, squeaky meow.
She took a few more steps forward, nose working furiously, then decided that maybe this person could be permitted to pet her. She nudged her nose under his fingertips and made a tiny squeak.Boris went limp as he realized he wasn’t going anywhere, his whiskers hanging to the floor in his (most likely short lived) misery. Jarvis ignored him, because that was something he had gotten rather good at recently, and instead scratched the top of Doc’s head with two fingers. She was a strange little creature, but that seemed to apply to everyone that called the tower home (himself included).
After a moment of scratching, Doc slitted her eyes closed and began to purr, loudly. She tipped her head forward, urging his fingers toward the back of her skull, and flicked an ear.
Doc’s eyes flicked quickly back and forth between Jarvis and Boris. She laid her ears back a little, as if listening to something behind her, and skittered back a few more steps. Her tail, the end tipped with a puff of cream-coloured fur, lifted and waved cautiously, before she circled around toward Jarvis’ free hand. She gave an inquisitive sniff.Jarvis held his hand out patiently, waiting for Doc to decide he wasn’t a threat (though he supposed that would happen faster if he wasn’t carrying Boris, but there was no way he was letting the otter go in the guest wing; he would wind up in Loki’s room, god knows how). He wondered idly where Summer was, but he wasn’t overly concerned about being found; he considered the tower his almost more than it was Mr. Stark’s.
She took a few more steps forward, nose working furiously, then decided that maybe this person could be permitted to pet her. She nudged her nose under his fingertips and made a tiny squeak.
gadgeteerphilanthropist replied to your post “Jarvis leaned into Summer’s room, far enough to set a copper chain down on the nearest surface, without really intruding. He held Boris under his other arm, the thwarted otter hanging despondently in his grasp, save for an occasional wiggle.”
Jarvis watched the cat idly for a moment, before he decided that intruding probably wasn’t very concerning when he was still ever-present. He hitched Boris into a better position, and then stepped into the room to pet the squeaky feline.
Doc’s eyes flicked quickly back and forth between Jarvis and Boris. She laid her ears back a little, as if listening to something behind her, and skittered back a few more steps. Her tail, the end tipped with a puff of cream-coloured fur, lifted and waved cautiously, before she circled around toward Jarvis’ free hand. She gave an inquisitive sniff.
Jarvis leaned into Summer’s room, far enough to set a copper chain down on the nearest surface, without really intruding. He held Boris under his other arm, the thwarted otter hanging despondently in his grasp, save for an occasional wiggle.
Doc peered from around the edge of the door, eyes huge and ears perked forward, then tipped her head inquisitively to the side. She opened her mouth and emitted what could only be called a squeak, before scampering halfway across the room to wash her rear leg very firmly.