Paxil is generally quite, well, peaceful.
But there are times when he becomes insistent on receiving his necessary dose of affection. At the moment, he is teetering precariously on a pile of books next to the computer, leaning toward my lap like an imitation of Snoopy imitating a vulture, eyes narrowing as he falls asleep, dangerously close to tumbling into my lap as I type. This is not an impossibility. He has fallen from many more secure perches, always for similar reasons--loss of consciousness, due to torpor.
In the image above, he is however in his animated--and wide awake mode. His only interest in the camera is in the little strap that dangles from it, which he thinks is a toy for him to play with. He seldom looks more serious and thoughtful than when he is playing like this. But now it is late at night for Paxil and he looms over the keyboard, reminding me that it is time to shut off the machine and go to bed.
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