Cats Again

A few days ago I was napping on the couch. Bob, as usual, had snuggled up in my arms, and after I woke up, I spent a few minutes lying there and petting him. Zooey crawled up with us, and she did something odd: she got right up on top of Bob. Now, she's tiny, so her two little paws on his big old back couldn't have weighed much, but I was still shocked that Bob didn't seem to mind, didn't begin hissing and spitting and screaming the cat equivalent of "OH GOD SHE'S TOUCHING ME." (This is his usual reaction.)

I lay there, befuddled at this new development of voluntary cat contact, and I watched Zowie as she deliberately leaned over, stuck her face in the side of Bob's belly, and bit him. Bob started but didn't move, and Zoe acted as though absolutely nothing had just happened. I waited for the claws, and nothing. Then, Zoe calmly, slowly leaned to the other side, opened her mouth, and bit his belly again. Bob neither hissed nor growled; he merely plaintively meowed, as if asking me for help. I was about to swat Zowie on the head, but before I got the chance, she, quite pleased with herself, turned around, hopped down from the couch, and flounced away.