For whatever reason, Stanley really loves my beard. Since I became a wizard, he loves it even more, because now he can really burrow into it. As it grew out, his beard kisses turned into nuzzles. Occasional turned into frequent. Frequent turned into daily. Daily turned into a 12:15PM ritual that I am required by law and claw to adhere to.
Every day, at 12:15, Stan comes and finds me and begins meowing at me until I sit down on the loveseat for him. He’ll immediately jump up onto my chest (oof, 20lbs of literal panther on small feet makes your ribs sing) and dive into my beard to forcefully worship, nuzzle, kiss, and snug my face.
You can’t see it, but his paws are on my throat, which he furiously kneads the whole time. As my beard’s grown longer, he’s taken to curling under it as much as he can after he’s had his fill of nuzzling, then he’ll take a nap under his “blanket” in a completely vain, never-at-all-successful attempt to make me fall asleep with him while I hold his butt.
Nope, never works.
Nope.