Oscar has always loved to help me do the laundry. He hops in the baskets, he hops onto the washer to peer inside, and he hops onto the bed to prevent me from removing or replacing the sheets. He’s an especially big fan of bed-making prevention.
His method of prevention is to squeak and fangwipe me imperiously to demand pets. Right. Dang. Now. Seeing as how it takes me forever to make the bed these days, his technique is super effective, but I’m not complaining. It’s impossible to be mad at a helper who loves you that much.